Devil's Gateway
by rachelAbendstern
Summary: Teaser: Staring at the brothers, down at the calendar in his hand and back again, Alec had the hysterical thought that, even if he did get himself into trouble a lot, no one could accuse him of not being creative about it. Crossover with Supernatural.
1. Prelude

Title: Devil's Gateway  
Author: rachelAbendstern (aka abendstern1601, amaranth)  
Characters: Alec (DA), Dean (SN), Sam (SN)  
Summary: Alec gets himself into trouble (big time). And shot. Again.  
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Anything you recognize from TV anyway  
Spoilers: SN S3 (The Kids are alright)  
Author's Note: Apologies to all those who are waiting for AWP. I rediscovered an old fandom of mine and fell in love with a new one.  
This plotbunny came out of nowhere and demanded to be written. I thought, what the hell, after about a year of inactivity, I can use the practice...  
Also, I never noticed how often I use words like 'damn' and 'hell' to describe things until I made a conscious effort to avoid them. Dean and Alec still have potty mouths though =)  
For those not familiar with SN and/or DA visit my profile for a link (I tried putting it here, but the d***editor wouldn't let me).

I don't think this counts as crack, but I did try for some levity.

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**Prelude**

_~ A small clearing in the woods outside of Seattle, December 30__th__, 2020 ~_

_.  
_

'_Shit!'_

The word reverberated soundly in Alec's mind before he gave in to the urge and cursed out loud.

"Shit!"

Clutching at his bleeding shoulder, shot – once again – only a second ago, the transgenic ducked behind the relative safety of a small rock formation. The stones, both taller than Alec himself by about three feet and a little under four feet wide, created a rough v-shape with their broad sides, which the young man now used as a shelter. The narrow side of the v held an opening just broad enough for Alec to walk through without brushing his shoulders against the rocks. The monoliths, completely out of place in the part of the woods in which they were situated, stood like silent sentries over the little clearing where Alec's deal was supposed to have taken place.

Letting go of his injury, Alec pulled his own .45 from the waistband of his cargo pants and cautiously took a peek around his hide-away.

This latest supply run for Terminal City was starting to turn out less than successful. He really should have listened to Mole when the lizard man (part of Manticore's desert acclimated combat units) told him that, no matter how easy it sounded, no supply run was a one-man-job. Unless, of course, they had to go for stealth rather than safety. But right now, back-up would have been nice.

Instead, he was in the forest outside of Seattle by himself, trapped like a fox in his kennel. Watching as his supplier fought out a turf war with one of his rivals in this no-man's-land, while the small black van which was filled front to rear with some much needed medical equipment and medicinal drugs was parked on the opposite side of the little clearing. Well beyond his reach, while there were still bullets flying around.

Ducking behind the rocks once more, Alec leaned back against the cold stone and settled in for a hopefully short wait. That wasn't his war going on, and he had no desire to be shot at. Again. Whoever got out on top, maybe they were still willing to deal so that Alec could go home where he was needed in his own war zone.

The coldness of the stone slowly soaked through his padded cord jacket. It had the young man shifting uncomfortably. While the X5-series, like most any other X-series among the transgenics, was built with a higher than average tolerance for low temperatures, that didn't mean X5-494 – or 'Alec' as he had been dubbed by a fellow X5, Max, shortly before she set the whole of the transgenic race loose on the world – particularly enjoyed being in the cold. It didn't help that it had been raining pretty much all through the holidays and up to this morning.

Clucking his tongue, Alec paid half a mind to the sounds of his surroundings.

There were still shots being fired.

He blew out a breath, drawing it out to watch it turn into mist in the frigid air.

The sound of a fresh clip being slid into an MP made it to his ears.

He tried to make bubbles with his spit.

It didn't work, of course, but the soft sound of them popping was a nice distraction from the shouts behind his back.

He tapped out the rhythm of a song he heard this morning with the butt of his gun against the stone.

Honestly, how long did it take ordinaries to kill each other?

A momentary lull in the racket made him poke his head around his sanctuary hopefully. Really, he should have known better.

The sound of another shot and a bullet grazing the stony surface only centimeters above his head had him stumbling backwards. Alec grappled for a grip on the frozen over stones on either side of him before he lost his balance, but he slipped and crashed – _painfully_ – on his butt. Outside the safety of the stones.

_'Figures.'_

If Max ever found out, she wouldn't let him hear the end of this...

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_to be continued..._

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FirstBorn: Thanks for reminding me -_-; This was supposed to be up a few days ago...


	2. P1, Scene 1

**Part One: **Down the Rabbit Hole

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**Scene One**

_~ The same clearing in the woods outside of Seattle, December 30__th__, 2020. Presumably.~_

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Quickly picking himself up, Alec brought up his gun to point at potential threats. What he saw made him freeze. He cocked his head in confusion, looking at what wasn't there.

Where there should have been two beaten up vehicles used for barricades there was nothing.

Where there should have been about two dozen people fighting each other there was...nothing.

Where there should have been the van packed with the supplies Alec had bartered for there was _nothing_.

Nothing but grass and trees, anyway. Not even traces of the small war the transgenic had been witness to only moments before.

And that wasn't all. Alec had arrived at the meeting place on time; on a windy, cloudy, dark, freezing, wet December afternoon, at 1700 hours sharp. From what Alec could tell by the position of the sun behind the trees and the smell in the air, it was barely past dawn now. Impossible, sure. But so was the fact that it was very obviously summer. The trees were adorned with rich green leaves, there were buttercups and yarrow flowers sprinkled across the grassy floor. It was _warm, _for God's sake, a good twenty degrees warmer than he remembered. He was still cold from the abysmal weather he should have been standing in.

It was nothing if not irrational, but Alec turned on his heels to look at the stone formation he had fallen through in bemusement. Suspicion. Whatever. If anyone ever asked, he would deny his actions very vehemently, but he just had to know. Carefully, gun at the ready just in case, Alec walked through the gap in the rocks. Nothing happened. Not that he had expected anything else.

Slowly, he circled the stones once, looking for any clues he might have missed. Although those clues might as well have bitten him in his transgenic behind for all that he knew what to look for. If there even was anything to look for. Maybe the insanity really was genetic, and his brother's mental illness had finally caught up with him.

Just for the heck of it, he crossed through the gateway from the other side, the one he originally fell through. Again, nothing happened.

Before the panic could set in – and he would deny to his dying day that he was on the verge of a panic attack, thank you very much – he heard twigs breaking and leaves rustling, and a voice (_not that far away, and how had he missed that?_) spoke, upset and vaguely familiar, "Dammit, Sammy! A whole night for nothing! Tell me again, why we had to spend the night staking this place on the off chance something was going to happen, when there was a nice, comfy bed waiting for me in the motel?"

"Because there was a chance something was going to happen," another voice answered, this one rather amused and calming, although Alec noticed the same tiredness he had registered in the first voice.

Then the two men belonging to the voices stepped into the clearing and their banter stopped abruptly. Alec, too, stared in shock. Talk about talking about the devil. His own face was staring back at him, Ben's face, looking as bewildered as Alec himself felt. The .45 that had dropped to his side swung up almost of its own accord, pointing dead center at his clone's head.

His wasn't the only arm that came up, however. Suddenly, he was faced with the business ends of two guns. The man on his clone's left (_Jesus, was that guy tall, almost as tall as Joshua_) held a sawed-off shotgun with the ease of long practice, while his clone pointed a dull silver Colt 1911 at him. Alec could just make out the ivory handle that peeked out from under his twin's grip and some strange markings along the sled. Nice piece. Even if he was admiring it at a totally inopportune time.

"493?" he croaked. Another thing that wasn't possible. Last he knew, his twin was decidedly dead.

Ben cocked his head in a freakishly familiar way and answered, a malevolent smirk pulling up his mouth, that, were Alec to be honest, he himself had sported more than once, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Goddamn shifters, I thought we were done with that!"

He made to pull the trigger. Alec felt his muscles coil in response, anticipating a shot that never came, because suddenly, the tall one stepped in.

"Dean, wait!" he said. Had to be Sammy, that's what his clone had called him earlier, after all.

Wait, 'Dean'?

"Look at him," Sammy continued, not lowering his own gun, but halting 'Dean' from taking the shot nevertheless. Even if it didn't work in his favor, Alec could appreciate the wariness of apparent soldier training. "He's not a shifter. He's too young."

That was when Alec saw it too. That man over there who looked like him couldn't be his clone (for more than the obvious reason). He was too old. About five or six years older than Alec, if he was any judge. There were lines on his face that Alec wouldn't have for a few years yet and a five o'clock shadow that the transgenic wouldn't ever have, thanks to Manticore's scientists' tinkering.

And to top it all off: what exactly was a 'shifter', anyway?

So focused on his two adversaries was he, that Alec didn't notice the black spots, at first, that kept appearing in his vision.

"Well, I'll be damned," he heard Dean say. His voice, so much like his own, only deeper, sounded muted, kind of far away. Which was just wrong, seeing as his counterpart was standing right _there_. Alec shook his head like a dog, but it didn't help. It just made him dizzy. When he felt the tickling sensation of blood running down his left arm, realization came a little too late.

_Crap,_ he thought as his knees gave way without any warning. _That bullet must have nicked an artery._

Lying on the impossibly warm, earthy floor, Alec was vaguely aware of two shapes crouching over him, searching for injuries. Then there were hands on his arm, effectively stemming the blood flow.

"Hey, don't look at me!" Dean sounded affronted, in that muted quality that sound had suddenly acquired. "You were there, I didn't shoot him!" Which was nothing less than the truth.

One thing clearly stood out in his mind before darkness swept him away for good:

He didn't know who these guys were.

He didn't know why one of them looked like him, like Ben, only older.

He didn't know what the hell had happened.

It wasn't pertinent to the situation, but he knew one thing for sure:

_If Max ever finds out, she is going to kill me!_ If only because she didn't know how to react to him any other way.

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_to be continued..._


	3. P1, Scene 2

**Part One:** Down the Rabbit Hole

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**Scene Two**

_~A comfortable bed in some room, December 2020. Summer 2021?~_

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Awareness came as abruptly as he had gone down. Naturally, Alec felt the stinging pain in his shoulder first and foremost. His brain was still rebooting, so to speak, when he felt a presence at his side. Fingers that weren't his own barely had the chance to touch his elbow before his good hand shot out to grab them. Alec's eyes snapped open, and he lurched off the mattress, a lifetime of training kicking in when the lingering drowsiness should have made him slow.

It was a mistake if ever he made one. The room started spinning around him, and all of a sudden, he wasn't clutching the hand to keep the person away but to stay upright.

_Right. Blood loss._ He had been shot at again.

"Whoa. Easy, there!"

Another hand grabbed his uninjured shoulder and pushed him back onto the bed.

"I just wanted to check your wound."

Alec finally let go of the hand in his grip to absently feel over the injury himself. His fingers met crisp, thick gauze before the freed limb swatted them away, then set out to unwrap the bandage.

"You had us worried for a while," the soft voice continued. Alec kind of liked it. Liked it enough that he didn't stop the man from his self-appointed task of checking him over, because, honestly, if the stranger had wanted to harm him, he could have just let him bleed out. Anyway, the guy had undoubtedly gotten a good look at the bar code in the nape of his neck while dressing his wound when Alec had been unconscious. If he hadn't spouted off some trannie hating line by now, there was no reason to believe that he would in the future.

Shaking his head to dispel the last remnants of fuzziness, Alec got his first good look at the stranger tending to his wound. He was tall, almost as tall as Joshua, and broad-shouldered but lean with the heavy muscles of a fighter, not that much older than the transgenic himself. An unruly, too long mop of dark brown hair framed a face with high cheekbones, a fox-like nose and warm but wary brown eyes.

Movement behind the stranger's frame caught Alec's eye, and he bend his head a little to look at the other man sitting on the second bed in what appeared to be a motel room – although a cleaner looking one than he had ever known. It took a moment to register what he was seeing (and Alec totally blamed the blood loss for that), but when it finally sank in, he froze.

_Oh. Sammy and Dean._ He had almost forgotten about that.

"Who are you?"

Not Ben, of that much he was certain. Neither of them even smelled like a transgenic when he tested the A/C controlled air with an inconspicuous little sniff. Gunshot residue, leather and... salt? But above all, ordinary. Not that anything about this situation was ordinary. _Dean _seemed a bit more bulky than Alec, not fat just muscled, and older, but other than the darker hair that reminded Alec of a grown out boot cut, he could have been his clone. No pun intended.

His voice was rough, unconsciousness and dehydration working together to make his throat scratchy, and Alec swallowed several times in the hopes of alleviating the urge to cough.

"The name 'Winchester' ring any bells for you?" Dean asked apprehensively right before Sammy pushed a glass of water into his fingers.

"You mean like the rifle?" Gratefully, Alec took a sip of the cool liquid. Then he scrunched his nose up in disgust. Noticing they were both watching him like hawks, he drawled, "I realize times aren't what they used to be, but you couldn't have found water that didn't taste so much like cheap plastic?"

Because, yeah, he might feel like crap, and he didn't know these guys from Adam; that wasn't reason enough for him to keep his mouth in check. The truth of his statement notwithstanding, he gulped the whole glass down, he was so thirsty.

Sammy snorted in amusement, taking the glass from him and handing him a whole plastic bottle of water instead while Dean narrowed his eyes at Alec. The bottled water tasted significantly better, curiously enough.

"Yeah, like the rifle," his... _Dean_ picked up from where they had left off, not so much answering Alec's question rather than parroting it back to him. "Actually, I meant more along the lines of 'John Winchester.'"

"Never heard of him. Why?"

"So your mother never mentioned his name?"

_Oh_. He could see where this was going now. They thought he was the bastard son of Dean's father (Sammy's father too? They did share some family resemblance if you looked close enough). Cute.

Even though nothing could be further from the truth.

"Don't get your panties in a twist," he told them between gulps of water, his trademark smirk on his lips. "I know exactly where I come from, and it ain't your daddy."

That wasn't exactly true, and as coincidences went, he probably did share some DNA markers with Dean, but as far as those two were concerned, it was true enough. Not surprisingly though, neither of them looked convinced. Now that he thought about it, Alec was starting to wonder whether they had failed to notice his bar code after all.

"Well, you sure have the attitude to fit into this family!" Sammy shook his head in almost palpable exasperation and rose from Alec's bedside. "This looks good." He indicated the scabbed over bullet wound in Alec's shoulder, completely ignoring Dean's indignant "Oh, please!"

"Better than it should, actually. I'll put some more antiseptic on it and we'll leave it undressed for a while, if you can manage to keep the arm still. Unlike _some_ people I know." A pretty unsubtle glance in the other man's direction accompanied his snide words.

"Hey! I'm a model patient, I'll have you know." The unrepentant grin Dean flashed the younger man was anything but convincing. "Just ask Nurse Emma back in Wichita!"

Leaving the brothers to their bickering (_had to be brothers, they had that certain _vibe_ going on_) Alec took a closer look at his new surroundings. He was getting bored already, but he wasn't ready to try standing up again. Not just yet. Even with his transgenic healing, he needed some time to recuperate. He _could_ go on if he absolutely had to, had done it more times than he remembered, but he always paid the price for it afterwards. And he didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, so he might as well take advantage of the chance to rest.

A small table calendar on the edge of the nightstand caught his interest.

"How d'you guys find a place like this?" He reached out with his arm, the injured one, ignoring the flare of pain in his shoulder and Sammy's glare alike, and brought the calendar up to his eyes. The page for June 2007 was on top. "This is practically ancient!"

There was that certain flavor to the following silence that meant people were staring at him because he had let his mouth run away once again. He had absolutely no idea what it could have been this time, though.

Raising his eyebrows in question, Alec snapped, "What?"

"What, exactly, do you mean by 'ancient'?" Tall Sammy sounded a bit strangled. Dean just kept staring at him incredulously, sparing a concerned, questioning glance at his brother.

"This!" Alec waved the calendar through the air and waited for comprehension to sink in. They must have noticed the year written in bold cyphers on top of the page! It was pre-pulse, for Christ's sake!

"I mean this is, like, thirteen years out of date!"

The brothers shared a baffled look, comprehension finally dawning in their expressions. Honestly, how slow could you get? Only... something was off. That wasn't just comprehension he saw on Sammy's face when he opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again, struck mute. There was that _'Uh, oh!'_-look Max usually got when a perfectly safe and easy heist suddenly got complicated.

It was Dean who got out something at last, after compulsively clearing his throat. "No, it isn't."

Well, that explained a whole lot of nothing.

"It's not out of date," he elaborated. "Kid, what year do you think we have?"

_Kid?_ Alec hadn't been a kid since...ever. And at any rate, "You guys are weirdos, you know that, right?" Although there was a sinking feeling in his own stomach now. Nothing could explain away the sudden disappearance of about a dozen men and three vehicles, or the premature and entirely too fast arrival of summer. Unless...

Almost pleading, he added, "It's 2020."

They both shook their heads in various states of speechlessness, incredulity and pity. Alec didn't appreciate the last one at all.

"It's 2007," Sammy contradicted quietly. "June 17th, to be exact."

Well, that was...

Staring at the brothers, down at the calendar in his hand and back again, Alec had the hysterical thought that, even if he did get himself into trouble a lot, no one could accuse him of not being creative about it.

A beseeching moan slipped past his lips.

"Maxie is so going to kill me!"

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_to be continued..._


	4. P1, Scene 3

A/N: Thanks for all those lovely reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this so far =D And since the question came up a few times, there are about 18 scenes in total, 14 1/2 of which have already been written. I'll try posting a new scene every two days or there abouts, but my beta is kind of busy with RL, so I might not be able to keep it up. And now on to the story:

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**Part One:** Down the Rabbit Hole

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**Scene Three**

_~A motel room in the outskirts of Seattle, June 17__th__, 2007. Yeah. Pretty whack.~_

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"Did I ever look that young and innocent?"

The door to the room clicked shut as Sammy and Dean returned from their quest for answers. Alec kept his eyes closed and continued to flex his fingers against the soft bed sheets.

"Sure," Sammy's voice moved from one end of the room to the other, turning off the TV on his way to the bathroom. "If you didn't ruin it by waking up."

"I was watching that!" Alec complained, still refusing to open his eyes.

After the absolutely outrageous revelation about three hours ago, the brothers had left for the local library in order to find out what exactly had happened to Alec and how to get him back where he belonged. Why they thought they were going to find the answers to those questions in a library, Alec had no idea. Under what category were they going to look? Intertemporal mechanics? Magic portals?

Alec was still in a kind of stupor then, not really believing their impossible theory of having gone back in time. And Dean had been right to be reluctant to leave him on his own. He'd had no intention of staying with those freaks. But Sammy had insisted on his brother's company and wrung a promise out of Alec to stay put. It wasn't more than a lip-service, to be sure, but as the pair had left, Sammy had taken a moment to turn on the television and thrown Alec the remote.

Honestly, he just wanted to watch the episode of 'The Simpson' which suddenly played out on the screen, before he was going to blaze. Dix, the tech unit responsible for all things computer back in Terminal City, had managed to download some of the episodes – Alec hadn't even bothered to ask from where; it was safer that way for all parties involved – and they were absolutely hilarious.

When the show was over, he decided there was plenty of time to quickly switch through the other channels, take a look at what else was on before the brothers returned. Most of the channels and programs were unfamiliar, but that fact was quickly shoved to the back of his mind.

Somewhere along the line he settled on a music station and sprawled out on the bed. It was pretty comfy. Better than any cot he had slept on for the last couple of months. When a five minute news program announced the date as June 17th, 2007, Alec was mellowed enough to just go with it. Fine. If these two clowns thought they knew what was going on, he might as well sit back and enjoy the lodgings for the time being. He was too darn comfortable to get up anyway.

"No, you weren't," Dean cut through his lethargic bliss. "Dude, will you stop it with the milk-tread! You're not a cat!"

_Milk-tread? Oh._ He was still flexing his fingers. Alec had to smile at the irony of Dean's unwitting statement. "But I'm comfy," he all but whined.

"Yah, well, you're on _my_ bed, so don't get too comfy."

Now that was rude. He had been shot, after all. Only when the thought had passed was Alec aware that his mouth had been moving. _Huh_. So maybe Max was onto something when she accused him that his brain was hot-wired to his tongue, bypassing any of the inhibitions and censors that normal people seemed to have in place.

"And I care about that, why?"

Now Alec opened one eye and smirked up at his counterpart. "Because you think I share your DNA, and it's not socially acceptable behavior to seriously harm your own kin."

A loud snort sounded from the bathroom just before the water was flushed. Dean, on the other hand, had taken on a contemplative look and, half dreading, half hopeful, asked, "Yeah, about that... You never told us your name. It isn't Ben, is it?"

Instantly tensing up, Alec at last gave Dean his full attention. "No," he replied flatly, rising up on his elbows. If this really was 2007 (and he was actually starting to buy that story) exactly what would they know about X5-493? "It's Alec."

"Braeden?"

Resentment quickly made place for bemusement.

"McDowell," Alec replied, frowning in helpless confusion. "And how the hell do you know about my brother?" And for that matter, when had he started claiming Ben as his brother and not just some psycho lookalike?

"Brother?" Dean now looked as befuddled as Alec felt. "Lisa never said anything about a brother."

"Lisa?" He was starting to get sick of these one word sentences of his, but he felt as if he had been thrown into a stage play without learning the script beforehand.

"Ben's mother," the older man told him in a way that suggested Alec really should know that. "She said Ben wasn't mine, but..."

So not his Ben but some kid Dean thought was his. Alec's muscles loosened in sudden relief. Only to tense up all over again. Oh. _Oh._ Alec really should have seen that coming from miles away.

"I told you," he started exasperatedly, "I know exactly where I come from, and it ain't your family."

Although, if he was going to accept the fact that he had been dumped in 2007, he might also start considering the very real possibility that he was actually facing the template of the human part of his DNA.

"So you were talking about two different people just now, right?" That was Sammy, trying to clear things up. The jolly green giant was leaning against the door jamb to the bathroom, having followed his brother's and Alec's conversation from the sidelines. He ought to start thinking of the younger brother as Sam, really, since 'Sam' had already told him off twice for using the apparently hated nickname before their trip to the library.

His mind was already spinning in a different direction, though, an annoying niggling he hadn't been fully aware of suddenly coming to the fore.

"Hey, wait," he sat up properly in excitement, the dizziness the action caused receding in a matter of seconds this time around. "I do remember the name Winchester. They were serial killer brothers, around two thousand... well, I guess around now. So that's you, huh?"

Sammy instantly went on the defensive, grounding out a fierce "We're not serial killers!" while his brother scowled wordlessly.

"Yeah, whatever." This was so awesome. In a freaky sort of way. "Of course, you're supposed to have died in helicopter crash or something like that." Trying to remember that part more clearly, Alec frowned. "Although they never did recover the bodies, I think, so who knows?" The frown dissolved again in a brilliant smile. "Well, I guess if you didn't do me in by now, you're probably not going to."

"I'm starting to seriously reconsider the option," Dean muttered darkly, but once Alec was on a roll, he usually wasn't deterred that easily. A well-known and annoying trait that had earned him more than one head slap from Max.

"You know, Brother Ben was a serial killer, too. Took the teeth of his victims and offered them to some deity he and his rug-rat brothers and sisters made up. Huh. Maybe the insanity's in the genes after all."

That thought, however, wasn't at all comforting.

Sammy took advantage of his momentary silence and, getting over the serial killer accusation and leaping onto another topic, cut in, "Okay, can I just stop you right there and say how much sense you're not making? You claim you're not related to us, and two minutes later you go on about insanity being genetic!"

_Uh, oh._ He had let that slip, hadn't he?

"Uh... It's a long story?" he tried. He really didn't want to get into the whole genetically-engineered-life-form thing.

The brothers had a different idea, though. "Well, then you better get started." Dean replied calmly, a familiar smirk on his lips. Max was right, once again. It really _was_ annoying.

"It's a really, really weird story?" Again, no such luck.

"We deal with weirdness on a day to day basis. Try again." Honestly, Alec could believe that. Neither had even batted a lash at the thought that he wasn't from the same year as them.

"You know, you never told me what you found in that library. Did you find out how I got here? And how to send me back?"

"Alec!" Sammy had the audacity to smile in amusement. Alec was liking the guy more and more. "Start talking."

So he did. With a bit of editing.

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_to be continued..._


	5. P1, Scene 4

**Part One:** Down the Rabbit Hole

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**Scene Four**

_~The small clearing again, June 18__th__, 2007~_

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"Dude, and here I thought I've heard it all."

It was at the indecent hour of 7 o'clock in the morning that found Alec and the Winchester brothers on a small deer trail through the forest that, according to Sam anyway, led them directly to the monoliths where they had found Alec the previous day. Apparently the dirt track that Alec himself had taken to meet up with his supplier didn't exist yet.

"You just can't let that go, can you?" The transgenic couldn't decide if he was annoyed or amused by Dean's constant incredulous remarks concerning Alec's disclosure about Project Manticore. The older man had let Alec take his bed for the night, though, despite his earlier grumblings, so Alec supposed he could be generous about any snide comments.

"They stole my DNA! They made a _clone_ from my DNA! I didn't give them any permission to do that!"

"Not like they ever _asked_ for permission. You should take it as a compliment, you know?"

"Oh, and how's that?"

Alec turned his head to smirk at Dean, who was taking the rear of their three-men line and replied,

"They only used DNA of the most promising subjects."

"You mean, they specifically chose me over someone else to be the template of one of their super-soldiers?"

Alec's grin brightened a bit more, "Exactly."

"Huh. That's kind of cool, I guess. I'm the man!"

Looking forward again, the young man noticed Sam, who was walking in front of him, shaking with silent laughter. He couldn't help but point out, "I'm still better!"

"Guys!"

Sammy's voice rose above any come-back Dean was about to make. Alec was pretty sure the guy just wanted to nip the oncoming argument in the bud, but he actually had a good reason to get their attention.

"We're there."

True enough, the transgenic saw the trees clearing a few steps ahead, and that weird stone formation came into view. Frowning, Alec asked, "So, tell me again why we're here?"

"We've heard some stories about these rocks," Sam answered, "It's not what brought us here, and it just sounded like one of those tales people tell, you know. Nothing to corroborate any actual activity."

They stepped out of the tree line and fanned out, slowly approaching the presumable source of Alec's predicament.

"Anyway, we read up on the local folklore yesterday at the library. These stones are known as 'Devil's Gateway.' Now, usually, for a place to get a name like this, something's had to have happened. Something people couldn't explain. That doesn't necessarily equal something supernatural, but seeing as you're here now," he threw Alec a sideways glance, "we have pretty convincing evidence that that's what it was."

"I walked through that gap from both sides!" Alec protested. "Nothing happened."

"Maybe there's something else to it," Sam answered distractedly, carefully looking the first stone up and down. "That's why we're here. We couldn't find anything in the folklore as to what activates it. I'm hoping we find some clues here."

Alec watched him scrutinize the uneven surface, silently wondering if he had finally lost his mind after all for believing Sam's theory of an honest to God magic portal so easily.

"Maybe you did something the first time," Sam mused out loud, more to himself than anything else. "Something that you didn't do when you tried to get back."

"Or maybe the window of opportunity just closed." Dean had walked around to the second rock and was kneeling at its base, staring. "There's runes here. No, Indian symbols; some kind of Kekinowin. I recognize some of the lunar cycle. I mean, we did find you just after daybreak after the last night of the new moon. Sammy, you're better at this..."

The tall young man walked around Alec and perched down curiously next to his brother. Humming in concentration, he informed them, "Yeah, you're right, Dean. It's a warning, as far as I can tell. But it's too weathered to make out anything in particular. Here, let's see..."

He took his cell phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, slid it open and held it over the stone in front of him, looking at the display.

"What are you doing?" Alec asked, once again feeling like he missed something.

"Taking a picture. We'll run it through an image enhancing program back at the motel and see if we can come up with anything."

It was Dean who noticed his stunned silence, craning his neck to watch him stare at Sam and his cell phone in turn with round eyes.

"Dude, you're supposed to come from the future, and you've never heard of a camera phone?"

Well, heard of, yeah, but, "They're hard to come by back home."

Both brothers were staring at him now. Finally, Sam shook his head. "I really don't think I want to know."

"I do!" Dean turned to glare at his brother, looking like Sammy just told him they canceled Christmas this year. And after Logan had talked Max and, more importantly, Grinch-like Mole into going all out this Christmas – as much as their budget allowed at any rate – Alec finally understood the sentiment behind the saying.

"Dean," Sam sighed, a long-suffering expression on his face, "I really hate to pull a Chris Perry here, but you don't know what consequences it will have for Alec if we know too much about what will happen in the future."

"What, a butterfly farts in Peru and a Tsunami will crash over Taiwan?" Dean snarled, leaving little doubt as to what exactly he thought of the idea.

"Something like that." Sam's apologetic little smile only served to deepen his brother's scowl. But then, as if suddenly realizing something, Dean's face developed that certain evil expression that Alec had already recognized as him preparing to mock his younger brother.

"Wait, you watched 'Charmed'?"

Sam grimaced, sliding his phone shut and standing up. The other two followed suit. "It was one of Jessica's favorites. She owned the whole DVD collection. And, hey! You recognized the name," it sounded almost like an accusation. "How come?"

"I, uh..." The wide-eyed look that suddenly appeared on Dean's face was too much. Even though Alec didn't know the show they were talking about, he barely refrained from laughing out loud as he watched the older Winchester fumble through an explanation that didn't leave him completely emasculated. Figuratively speaking.

"Hey, those chicks were hot!" he finally came up with. A valid point if ever Alec heard one. "Worth overlooking any bad plot the writers could come up with."

Even Sam seemed to agree, if the the evaluating look on his face and the subsequent nod was anything to go by.

There was only one problem with the whole argument, as far as Alec was concerned. "Which Girls? And what's 'Charmed'?"

Once again something he said left people staring at him in disbelieving surprise. Then Dean chuckled, grabbed him in a headlock (_that he totally could have avoided if he'd wanted to_) and told him benevolently, "You have a lot to learn, young padawan!"

The insanity really was genetic. He was so screwed...

.

_to be continued..._


	6. P1, Scene 5

**Part One:** Down the Rabbit Hole

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**Scene Five**

_~Same motel room in the outskirts of Seattle, June 18__th__, 2007~_

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'_Still hurts like a bitch!'_

Grimacing at the pain radiating from his injured shoulder, Alec still rotated the blade a few more times. It wouldn't do for the muscles to become stiff.

As gunshot wounds went, he had been incredibly lucky. The bullet might have nicked the artery, but otherwise had passed straight through. No broken bones, no healing over the foreign body and having his immune system working against him, no need for Sam or Dean to dig the piece of metal out of his flesh. As soon as they had applied pressure, his transgenic healing had kicked in and knitted the torn tissue back together at a speed no other mammal organism could achieve, not even with the help of modern medicine.

At this point, only just over thirty hours since he had sustained the wound, the scab was thick enough to not tear at a bit of a strain anymore, and old enough that it didn't itch anymore either. By the end of the week, only a scar would be left and after another week or two there would remain nothing at all.

"Are you alright?"

Sam, who was sitting at the small table attached to the windowsill, several books as well as his laptop perched in front of him and running the pictures of those Indian symbols through an enhancing program, frowned at Alec when he caught on to what he was doing.

Alec dropped the arm to his side and leaned back on the bed he was sitting in.

"I'm always alright." he smirked.

Huffing, the tall Winchester looked from Alec to his brother, who was sitting on the other bed, busily cleaning an impressive collection of guns and other assorted weapons, and back again. "Now why don't I believe that?"

"Cause you're a suspicious stick-up-the – Ow!" Something hard had hit his head. Carefully fingering the growing lump on the back of his head, Alec looked down on the mattress where the wet stone Dean had flung at him was innocently lying against his folded legs. The glare the transgenic sent Dean's way did nothing but provoke an all too familiar evil grin.

"What? I'm the only one who gets to insult him like that."

"It wasn't an insult." Alec would have felt like pouting if he hadn't been too old for that. "One of my best friends is one too." Cocking his head in contemplation, he added, "Although she usually resorts to violence, as well, if I try to tell her that."

"You tell a girl that she's..." Sam eyed him incredulously before shaking his head. "Never mind," he declared and returned to stare at the computer screen. Alec couldn't help but think that Logan, the infamous cable hacker Eyes Only of future Seattle, would kill for a piece of pre-pulse equipment like that.

Silence descended once again over the trio, the brothers both occupied and agreeing that daytime TV wasn't worth turning on Alec's beloved boob tube for.

Sighing, Alec picked up the wet stone and twirled it in his hand. He tossed it up in the air and caught it with his other hand.

The mouse clicks on Sam's computer and the scratchy noise the brush made with which Dean was cleaning the barrel of a black Glock seemed unreasonably loud.

Sighing once again, loudly, he put the wet stone on the nightstand with a satisfying crack. Over at the window, Sam flinched.

Alec scanned the room, but nothing caught his interest. His fingers itched for the wet stone again and one of those wicked looking knives his lookalike had spread before him, but if Dean was anything like Mole, he wouldn't let a total stranger mess with his weapons.

Besides the feeling of ants running under his skin from this forced inactivity, it rankled Alec like nobody's business that he wasn't able to do anything to get himself back to where he belonged. Sam looked like he knew what he was doing though, and Alec himself wouldn't have the first clue where to start.

"I'm bored!" he finally announced and watched both of Sam's hands fly up in the air, annoyance plainly written all over his face.

"Billions of dollars in research and development, and they couldn't x-out the ADD?"

That was plain unfair. He'd earned all those issues he had, including the apparent attention deficit. Before he could tell Sam so, however, the bone handle of a long hunting knife was stuck right under his nose.

"Why don't you put yourself to use, then?" Dean nodded at the nightstand where the wet stone was still waiting, shaking the knife in his hand a bit to emphasize his point.

Alec grinned at him, the most genuine since stumbling into this world, and took the knife from the older man, carefully sliding it out of its leathery sheath. Reaching for the wet stone, he got to work.

About fifteen minutes later, Alec could honestly say that the silence didn't bother him so much if he was just able to occupy his hands.

He had been vaguely aware of Dean's initial scrutiny, but after the man had made sure his knives were in capable hands, he himself had moved on to the shotgun Sam had pointed at Alec a day (_a lifetime_) ago.

The familiar rhythm of sharpening a blade was soothing in a way Maxie or Joshua would never be able to understand. For Max, ten long years on the run from their creators (until they caught up with her) and loathing all things Manticore, the task was a necessary evil of the times they lived in. Big, gentle, canine Joshua just didn't have enough experience with any kind of weapons for the task to be even remotely familiar.

For Alec, on the other hand, this had been his life, all twenty years of it, until Max had come along and blown his home to pieces. Sometimes Alec still resented her for it, as much as he understood it was part of the brainwashing Manticore's alumni had all undergone.

He would never say it out loud, but he kind of missed the two of them. The first real friends he'd ever made, even with all the posturing and snarling between him and Max. He even missed Mole and Logan (and some others, but he wasn't going to rattle down the full list), whenever he was consciously aware that they weren't just a call away for the foreseeable future. No pun intended.

He was about to reach for another knife, a relatively short but ugly looking K-bar, when Sam's voice broke the comfortable silence at last.

"Okay, I think I've got something." He pulled some notebook with a stained and darkened leather cover across the table for reference, haphazardly juggling his laptop aside, while Dean and Alec both turned to look at him expectantly.

"Some of it was just too weathered to be any good," he explained, "but essentially, this is a 'Use with caution.'"

"Does it say anything on how to get me back?" Alec asked hopefully.

"Maybe. Back in your time, 2020?" Alec nodded in confirmation. "Was that night a full moon?"

"Yeah, actually." He furrowed his brows in question. "So what?"

"So, I think, to be sent into the past you have to cross the gate during a full moon. And to go back into the future..."

"...you have to cross through during new moon." Dean completed his brother's sentence, nodding as if any of this made perfect sense.

Sam hummed, sprawling his long legs out in front of him and rubbing at his eyes. "If I got this right, yeah." Noticing Alec's alarmed look, he tried to soothe, "I'm pretty sure that I did. But like I said, some of it was too washed out to read."

Taking a calming breath, Alec managed to sound not too doubtful when he replied, "Yeah. Okay."

God, he wished he could talk to Joshua. The big dog always managed to lighten his mood somehow. Thinking about Joshua, however, made him realize another not so little hole in Sam's explanation.

"Wait. Exactly _when_ in the future will I get back to? Will I get dumped on the same day I stepped through first?"

The unsure face Sam made didn't help the sudden knot in his stomach. He really hadn't thought about the consequences of his little adventure much since waking up in this room yesterday afternoon.

"It doesn't say," the younger Winchester answered. "But I got the feeling that there's some consistency to the magic of that gate. The tone of it all suggested that the amount of time you go back or forth is essentially always the same."

Alec glanced back at Dean to see if he understood any of that, but Dean wore an equally confused expression as Alec himself. "In English?" the older Winchester demanded.

Sam seemed used to simplifying his words for his brother. He didn't miss a beat when he clarified, "The gate sent Alec back thirteen and a half years, it will send him forward thirteen and a half years. If he'd gone through December 2019, he would have landed in June 2006, and so on." He shifted a bit to talk to Alec directly, "Now I'm not sure if it will deposit you back from where you started, but I am pretty confident that the worst it will do is add a month to the day you disappeared."

That was an equally comforting and terrifying thought. As glad as the young transgenic would be to be back in his own time even if it was a month too late, it would also mean that his friends in TC would have to wonder for a whole month if he was dead or alive. Captured by White and his stinking Breeding Cult or just up and left for them to fend for themselves. It stung that Max would probably consider that last possibility as serious as any other.

"A month," he parroted gloomily and Sam nodded, apology openly in his eyes. Slumping back onto the bed, Alec closed his eyes in defeat. There really wasn't anything he could do about that. He shot right back up as something else came to his mind.

"A month!" he repeated, incredulous and irritated. "Does that mean I am stuck here for another four weeks before I can go back?"

"Essentially," Sam winced, in sympathy or discomfort Alec couldn't tell.

"Great!" Alec snarled. "And what am I going to do until then?"

He was pretty sure that, if left to his own devices, he would get himself into trouble faster than he could blink in this shiny, seemingly untainted pre-pulse America. He knew himself too well, remembered what it was like straight out of Manticore's sheltering walls and thrown into that exhilarating strange new world. Alec hadn't seen much of the pre-pulse world outside the motel's window yet, but he had no doubt it would feel exactly the same.

The brothers shared a glance for a moment, one of those looks that was packed with a whole conversation without ever using words. Some part of him that he would never acknowledge – except for the darkest, worst, loneliest nights – felt envious, inexplicably longing for the twin he never met.

"You could come hunt with us." Dean proposed at last after an encouraging nod from Sam. "I'm curious about those super-soldier abilities of yours."

"Hunt?" Alec repeated, cocking his head and trying the word on for taste. "Hunt what?"

His lookalike mirrored his move, an amused grin tugging on his lips. "Haven't you ever wondered what we were doing out there in the woods when we found you?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, but..." _that wasn't any of my business_, he wanted to tell them, but Sam spoke over him, the steely tone in his voice softened by his own amusement, "Or do you still think we're serial killers?"

Well. Arguably, they were still insane, but... they didn't behave like any serial killers he's ever heard of. "No, I guess not."

"Good."

Dean held his hand out, and Sam flung the notebook he had been consulting earlier on over Alec's head. His brother caught it cleanly out of the air and smacked Alec in the chest with it. Grabbing onto the leather bound pages before they fell into his lap, Alec curiously looked at Dean, at Sam and at the book in his hands. It was pretty heavy for such a small thing.

"Then let me introduce you to the things that go bump in the night." There was a decidedly maniacal edge to the excited glint in Dean's eyes.

An hour or three later, Alec still sat, speechless and wide eyed, on the bed flanked by both Winchesters with their Dad's journal lying opened in front of them on the rumpled bedspread. When he finally found words, it was to say, "You two are total freaks, you know that? Nut-jobs, the both of you!"

Nevertheless, he turned another page in John Winchester's journal. If the insanity was genetic, Alec found he didn't care much anymore. This was all too exciting. And besides, there was that magic portal (_Devil's Gateway_) he had an appointment with in about a month, so who was to say all this other stuff wasn't real? Only one way to find out for sure...

"So how do you kill a wendigo?"

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**~ End Part One~**

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**

A/N: So, last chapter for part one. Thank you guys for all the awesome reviews! All of them made me smile and many of them grin like a lunatic =D

The second part is currently with my beta, but she's pretty busy so I don't know when the next installment will be up. If you're still interested after reading this chapter, though, there's this little gadget called story alert ;) Or just keep your eyes open XD

Love, Rachel


	7. P2, Scene 1

A/N: As promised, the second part. Hope it doesn't fall too short on your expectations. On a sidenote, I've never been to the place mentioned in this chapter, I just needed the name of a small town and my beta suggested some. I did not intend to insult anyone, so please don't take Alec's thoughts on the place too seriously -_-; And now, without much further ado...

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**Part Two: **A Life in Passing

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**Scene One**

_~A forest in Washington State, June 26__th__, 2007~_

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_

Salt repelled ghosts. Demons and evil spirits alike couldn't cross over a line laid out with the white crystals. It was one of the first lessons Alec had been taught by the Winchesters, and he had taken it to heart after a harsh hands-on demonstration consisting of the transgenic's very first ghost hunt.

It didn't work so well against dryads, however.

Alec should know. He just fired a load of rock salt at the accursed thing, and it didn't do a whole lot of good. Needless to say that it did piss it off even more.

The thing was about as tall as Alec, gnarly brown limbs that looked so much like branches outstretched in a grotesque imitation of every bad zombie movie Dean had made him sit through during the last week. Alec tried to back away, but the thing moved faster than those zombies, faster, in fact, than most humans were able to. The transgenic could still have outrun it, if it weren't for the two ordinaries he had no intention of leaving behind.

"Dean! Sam!"

He cursed when he stumbled over a root in the soft ground, back suddenly bumping against dry bark, dark, rough fingers closing over his neck.

'_Like hell!'_ he thought and knocked the length of the rifle against the deceptively skinny torso of the creature that was almost on top of him with all the strength he could muster up. A hit like that should have send it flying into the bushes a few feet behind it, but instead the dryad just stumbled back a step or two, swaying but very much still on its feet.

All the same, the opening was enough for Alec to make his move. He crouched down a bit in preparation and jumped off the ground into the air. An adult X5 was capable of jumping twenty feet and more, so leaping over the six feet tall form of the tree-like creature posed no challenge at all. Twisting over the dryad's head, Alec came to stand directly behind it.

"Working on it," Dean's strained voice sounded from somewhere to his right just as Alec shoved his opponent into the tree he himself had been trapped against only seconds before. Tried to, at any rate.

"Work faster!" Alec ordered right before the dryad twisted around and hit him in the stomach with such force that Alec found himself hurtling into another tree about two feet to his left. The impact left him momentarily short of breath, but he managed to land in a crouch and, taking a second to shake off the sudden dizziness, propelled himself forward and straight at the thing again, a snarl twisting his lips. He was starting to get a bit miffed himself.

According to Sam, this hunt should have been an easy one. A simple salt-and-burn just like the last job the brothers had taken him along to. True to Alec's track record, however, things didn't stay as simple as anticipated.

Rumors of unexplained and unsolved disappearances on a stretch of land near Kettle Falls, Washington (a rural small town that gave Alec nightmares of Sunday school and entirely too virtuous girls) spread out over the last century or so had caught Sam Winchester's eye. They dug a bit deeper into the history of the town and found old Isaiah Thompson, date of death November thirteenth, 1874, who liked to behead any trespassers to his lands and bury them under an old oak tree in the forest behind his house with no one the wiser. The whole thing was only discovered when the local sheriff's daughter was able to escape the old man's grasp and brought the wrath of her father down on him.

So, yeah. Easy. Find the old coot's grave, dig it up and salt and burn his bones to get rid of him for good. Finding the grave had taken them the better part of two days, but they were successful and did what they had to without old man Isaiah making any kind of appearance. That in itself ought to have alerted them that something was wrong.

Then that thing that looked like a homicidal version of Treebeard of 'The Lord of the Rings' (Alec had read the books in the library while the brothers had been occupied with research) had blindsided them, knocking Dean in the back and pummeling him to the ground. Alec's training had kicked in on the spot, and he had shoved the creature off his lookalike while Sam pulled his brother up, maneuvering them both backwards even as he unloaded several rounds of rock salt into the tree-like shape.

They'd only taken a few steps back when a tremble had gone through the creature. It turned on its axis, looking around disoriented and disappeared from where it came without giving them another thought. Later on they discovered that they had stepped over the border of Isaiah Thompson's land.

Turned out the spirit of the oak where Isaiah had put down his victims like offerings had soaked up all the blood and the old man's twisted fury and created this demented caricature of a usually harmless nature spirit. Burning down the source, the oak this time and not the bones, still ought to do the trick, both of the brothers agreed.

Seeing as they had twenty years of experience on Alec when it came to this stuff the transgenic decided to take their word on that. But honestly, they could hurry it up and not just a bit. Going up against this thing was worse than trying to fight a Familiar, for all the effect his attacks had on it.

They went down in a flurry of limbs, landing on hard stone, and Alec bit down on a shout as one of his ribs cracked. Grappling and wrestling, Alec actually managed to tear off one of the dryad's wooden fingers (managed to give himself a huge splinter doing it, too), resin oozing over him like too thick maple syrup when the wood spirit suddenly (_finally_) went up in flames.

Only it was doing that right on top of Alec.

An inhuman, loud screeching battling against his eardrums, the young man froze in place and stared at the fire like a rabbit at a snake. He felt the heat of it, knew that he had to _move_, but he couldn't get his limbs to obey. Even after all the effort Manticore had put into it, he'd never gotten over this primal fear of fire. Most X5s, no, most transgenics with animal DNA in their cocktail, hadn't. It was part of them, the price they paid for the superior senses and strength, and even Manticore's best scientists hadn't been able to change that.

Hands seized his shoulders, and the next thing he knew he was standing next to the brothers, Sam's fingers still digging into his shoulders while Dean grabbed his elbow and shook.

"What the hell was that?"

Trying to get his breathing under control again, Alec bit out, "Nothing!" before shaking off the clinging hands. "What took you so long?"

An almost sheepish expression passed over Dean's face. "The oak fought back."  
Did he actually hear right? "Come again?"

Alec turned around to take them both in, neatly getting the already dying fire out of his sight. They sure did look like something fought back. Leaves and twigs and dirt in their hair and on their shirts, an impressive bruise developing just under Sam's left eye while Dean sported a nasty looking cut running across his nose. There were other cuts and bruises on the unprotected skin that Alec could see, and several new tears in Dean's jeans as well as Sam's shirt.

Shrugging wryly, Dean went to pick up the shotgun that Alec had lost during his struggle.

"Let's get out of here before someone calls in the fire department," Sam suggested, taking long strides away from the scene and expecting them to follow. There was no reason not to.

Dean, shotgun supported on his shoulder and a canister of lighter fluid swinging merrily in his other hand, announced, apropos of nothing, "When we get to my car, you're going to give me that Metallica tape you were trying to hide, Sammy. Don't think I didn't notice!"

Alec snorted, thinking of the music that assaulted his ears every time they drove that magnificent car. He completely understood Sam's attempted theft after listening to the same rotten cassette for near on three days. "Man, those songs are ancient even in 2007," he complained.

Dean's comeback, if it could be called that, wasn't far behind. "Shut up. Jackass."

Breathing in the weirdly comforting smells of leather, salt, gunpowder and smoke, Alec scowled.

"What are you insulting me for?"

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_to be continued..._


	8. P2, Scene 2

A/N: I'm not usually a humor-fic writer. If anything, I prefer angst. It shows through in this chapter, so be warned. I decided to update part 2 daily, just so you know. If I don't get waylaid by RL that is...

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**Part Two:** A Life in Passing

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**Scene Two**

_~A motel in the suburbs of, July 1__st__, 2007~_

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_

Two weeks into their trip, and Alec was packing his bag, what little there was to pack, before the Winchesters could tell him to leave. A spare pair of jeans, two t-shirts, some socks and boxer briefs and the thick cord jacket he had worn on that day when December 30th, 2020 had become June 17th, 2007. He hesitated over the wickedly sharp little dagger with the streak of silver worked into its steel blade that Dean had given him on loan back when he had asked Alec to come along. If this was going to be the only thing he would have left to remember the brothers by, he decided, he could live with Dean's anger when the man found out that Alec had stolen it.

The knock on his door startled him, and he turned to look at the bright green wooden surface for a moment, only to turn back to what he was doing without responding.

After the first two days of traveling together, it was decided that Alec would get his own room in the motels they stopped at. Not because the three of them didn't get along, but because it was getting a little crowded with three adult men in the usually small confines of a double motel room. Well that, and maybe his restlessness that made Sam's fingers twitch with the urge to throw pillows at him until he stopped moving so much.

The door creaked loudly when it opened, but Alec didn't turn to look. Instead, he headed for the bathroom and shoved his toiletries into a small plastic bag.

"What are you doing?" Sam's voice behind him asked, incredulous and just a little pissed off, and Alec thought it ought to be clear what he was doing, after the looks he had received earlier this evening when the two Winchester brothers had finally realized just what exactly they had willingly taken into their midst.

Alec shivered as he remembered the thrill of the hunt, chasing that werewolf through abandoned streets and into the wilderness. It had been exhilarating just letting go, being able to let the predator loose that he was _meant_ to be in order to catch that beast of a wolf.

He didn't remember much of the actual fight. Just a jumbled mess of snapshots, really; sharp yellow teeth, blood-caked, coarse fur beneath his hands, hot foul breath on his neck, the sting of claws scratching his thighs.

What he did remember was coming down from his adrenalin high, dripping with blood (and not his own, _not his own, dear God_), a chilling smile on his face.

What he did remember was becoming aware of Sam and Dean's stares, wide, frightened eyes on him that cut deeper than the wolf claws.

What he did remember was looking back down at the werewolf; only it wasn't a wolf anymore. It was a young woman, younger than Alec, eighteen, maybe nineteen years old. Her body was a mass of cuts and bruises, and her head... her head had been severed from the rest of the body, torn off when the small silver blade hadn't been enough.

Ignoring the bile rising in his throat once more, Alec pushed past Sam through the bathroom door and threw the plastic bag into the bag on his bed, a canvas one they had bought for him at the same thrift store the jeans and t-shirts came from.

Sam stopped him from closing the latch, large hand squeezing painfully on the cuts on his arm.

He repeated sharply, "What are you doing?"

Yanking his hand out of the tight grip, not able to meet Sam's eyes, not even able to look at his face, Alec tied up the bag with jerky movements.

What he did remember was the uncomfortable, accusing silence on the long ride home and being ushered into his room, into the shower by Dean after making sure no one was watching. He remembered wondering why those looks hurt (_so fucking much_) more than any of the others he had received (_Rachel, sweet, innocent Rachel_).

"Alec!"

The bag was forced out of his grasp and thrown unceremoniously into the corner between bed and wall.

Whirling on Sam, Alec snapped, "I saw the way you two looked at me, Sam! You want to tell me I don't freak the hell out of you?"

Up until then, they hadn't realized what he was, not really. Alec had told them about DNA tinkering, making them smarter, faster, stronger, _superior_. Training them as soldiers. He hadn't mentioned the animal genes or Psy Ops or solo missions or not rating a name, only a designation or firing his first gun at the age of four and bull's-eying the target. They hadn't _known_. Now they did.

"So you surprised us, and what?" Sam gestured a lot with his hands when he was upset. Usually it was about his brother's stupidity. He was doing it right now. "You're not even giving us a chance to deal, you're just taking off?"

He didn't just sound angry, Alec realized. Sam sounded _hurt_, as hurt as Alec felt, and why was that? He was only trying to avoid getting kicked out of...

"Deal with what, _Sammy_? That I was an assassin who killed more people than he wants to remember?"

...the first real family he'd ever known. _Crap. When had _that_ happened?_

Staring each other down for a few more heartbeats, Alec was the first to deflate. Sam didn't want to back down, didn't want him to leave, he understood that now, even if he didn't understand why. But Sammy didn't know the half of it, and all of a sudden, Alec wanted him to know.

He slumped down on his bed, elbows on his knees, staring straight forward because he didn't want to see Sam's emotions written all over his features.

"What you saw back there," Alec started only to stop again, not sure how to continue, not sure what exactly he wanted to get across to begin with. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his thoughts.

"They spliced cat-genes into our cocktail. And not just some. The X5 DNA-specifications contain up to forty-seven percent feline DNA. It's what allows me to jump so high or see in the dark."

The mattress shifted as Sam set down next to him, and Alec could feel his gaze, not angry or hurt or accusing anymore but curious, and for that he was grateful.

"We inherited some traits that Manticore didn't expect. They took advantage of some and tried to exorcise others."

"The fear of fire," Sam connected the dots out loud, quiet and calm again, and Alec was reminded of how soothing that voice could be.

"And most of our females go into heat."

There were pack instincts too. Take Manticore away and force them to stick together, and you were faced with a bunch of pack instincts even in the loners with feline DNA, or worse, reptilian. But that wasn't important right now.

"The instinct to hunt." Alec looked off into the distance, thinking of another place, another time when he and his unit siblings had been taken out into the woods beyond the wire around their cinderblock and concrete home.

"I was eight years old the first time I killed." Sam started in shock, but Alec kept recounting the 'first-kill-scenario,' as it had been called by his handlers. "Our XO took us into the woods. There was a death-row convict. He was given a gun and told that, if he got past us, he was free. No more prison, no more hiding. Sgt. Parker had us wait ten minutes, then he sent us after that man. We hunted him down, no problem. He never stood a chance. And when he drew his gun on me, I broke his neck."

"You just did what you were told," Sam tried to console him, but it sounded hollow to Alec's ears. And it was entirely beside the point. "You didn't know any better. And he did threaten you."

"You don't understand, Sam! I liked it, we all did! The thrill of the chase, of catching up with him? Hell, it was fun! A lot more fun than we usually had in there."

Alec hid his face in his hands a few moments, then ran shaky fingers through his hair and continued.

"And it was like that every _goddamned_ time. Every time they sent me after a target. And, yeah, I may not have killed any of them if I hadn't been given the orders, but even the kill, once made, felt good! I hardly felt any regret. I was _good_ at what I did!"

And he still felt proud of it on some level. It _had_ been his job, once upon a time, had been all that he had known, and X5-494 had been one of the best, at least where skills were concerned.

Even Max, so rigorous in her belief that they could all be normal, leave the animal in them behind, felt it, that thrill of a good hunt, of getting one up on someone else. That, more than the lack of budget, was why she had become a cat-burglar when she had been alone out there before Manticore had gotten their hands on her again.

Heavy silence fell as Sam digested his words, tried to wrap his mind around them. "So, what changed?" he finally asked.

Alec laughed hoarsely. Indeed, what had changed? Everything. Nothing.

"There was this girl," he began, and while a lot of people back home may have had Max in mind, the truth was that it had started years earlier.

Now it was Sam's turn to laugh, a loud hyena-cackle of genuine amusement. "Why am I not surprised?"

"You wanna hear it or not?"

"Sorry." Properly chastised, Sam motioned for Alec to go on.

"She was the daughter of my last target. I posed as her piano teacher. I fell in love with her."

He smiled, bittersweet memories swimming up to the surface. After three, going on four years, it still hurt, but he wouldn't want to miss a single moment that he spent with her. "I didn't know why I felt the way I did, not back then. But I did know that I didn't want her to die. So when they told me I had to kill them both, I... I couldn't do it. I planted a bomb in her father's car and was halfway off their property, and I just..."

Swallowing, he tried to push against the sudden lump in his throat, the burning in his eyes, distance himself enough so that he could tell Sam the whole story.

"I turned around and tried to convince her she and her dad had to go to ground. She slapped me and ran to her father, and then the bomb went off, and my handlers pulled me into a car and shot me up to my eyeballs with sedatives."

Silence settled once again, both of them lost in thought. Alec didn't add that Rachel had died, didn't need to. For all the good it did her, she might as well have died in that explosion instead of wasting away in a coma for three years.

Finally, Sam sighed. "Alec..." He made to put a hand on his shoulder but thought better of it.

"If you say 'It's not your fault, they made you do it!'..." Alec began scathingly, but Sam shook his head.

"I wasn't going to. You have to come to terms with your past on your own. I don't think anyone can help you with that. But, Alec, the fact that you do feel remorse, now that you've come to know a different lifestyle... I think that speaks for itself."

Alec didn't know how to respond to that. No one who wasn't a fellow Manticore soldier, with the possible exception of Joshua, had ever just accepted him for what he was as easily as Sam Winchester seemed to have done bare seconds ago. Not even Max. Especially not Max.

Leaving the too serious moment behind as if a switch had been flipped, Sam suddenly smiled, a mischievous little twitch turning up the corners of his mouth. When he reached out with his hand, this time he didn't stop until it was wrapped around Alec's neck, over his bar code. Alec allowed it, even as Sam gently shook him to emphasize his words.

"And just to be perfectly clear: Dean and I want you to stay! Tomcat genes and all."

Shaking his head with a rueful but honest smile, Alec felt a sudden warmth wash over him that he had never felt that strong before. _In too deep_. The expression echoed through his mind, and it was true. It was more than slightly disconcerting how much the brothers'... (he might as well go ahead and spell it out)_ his_ brothers' opinion had come to mean to him. But right now, this moment of closeness felt good. _Alec_ felt good.

Which, of course, was the moment when Dean decided to interrupt.

"Is it safe to come in now? You two done with having your chick-flick moment?" he called through the closed door.

Sam harrumphed exasperatedly, completely dissolving the remnants of tension, let go of Alec's neck and called back, "Yeah, Dean, the chick-flick moment's over!"

"Thank God!" was the heartfelt reply. A second later, Dean poked his head into the room, informing Sam, "You've got company, by the way. The bitch is waiting in our room."

Alec's eyebrows shot up at that. While Dean was as much of a player as Alec was, the younger man had never heard him speak so derogatory of a woman before.

Apparently, Sam didn't need any more information than that to know who Dean was talking about, and with a fierce scowl at his older brother (Alec assumed it was for the name-calling) and a pat on Alec's back, he stood up to walk to the room he shared with Dean.

Alec wasn't left to wonder for long how much of the conversation the older Winchester had heard, because as soon as Sam was out of the door, he stepped into Alec's room, first aid kit wedged beneath his elbow and demanded, "Dude, you're part cat? Freakin' unbelievable..."

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_to be continued..._

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A/N: Some facts about Alec's history at Manticore are either made up, canon, or taken from that awesome page I found. I'd give you the link, but ffnet's editor doesn't like internet addresses, I'm afraid, so you have to type it yourself: alec494 dot egoism dot jp.


	9. P2, Scene 3

A/N: To anyone who told me Alec should kick Ruby's ass: y'all have a problem in this chapter b/c I kind of like Ruby. I found her entrance in 'Ius In Bello' (which is one of the only episodes of S3 I've seen so far) absolutely hilarious._ 'Does anyone have breath-mint? Some guts splattered into my mouth while I was killing my way in here._' *roflmao* Yes, I have a weird sense of humor sometimes...

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**Part Two:** A Life in Passing

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**Scene Three**

_~A small roadside diner, July 2__nd__, 2007~_

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"So, is this Ruby chick going to be hanging around a lot?"

"No!" Dean didn't sound incredibly enthusiastic at having to deal with her in the first place.

Which was just as well, Alec decided. The sex last night had been awesome, but there was just something about the blond ruthless woman that made his hackles rise. Figuratively speaking. There had been the faintest smell of fire and brimstone as she had lowered herself down on him.

But, _Ye Heavens_, the sex had been good!

Shifting inconspicuously in his seat, Alec sniffed cautiously at the chocolate fudge cake he had ordered with his coffee. It smelled good. It tasted even better. Closing his eyes in bliss, Alec thought sadly that, if there was one thing he was going to miss when it was time to go back home, it would be the food. And the coffee. He couldn't recall the last time he had tasted coffee this good in post-pulse Seattle. The sludge that would be served as coffee in establishments like this little diner in about ten years was going to consist mostly of roasted barley grain because the real deal was just too expensive to afford on a regular basis. Would be too expensive. Or something. Those tenses were really playing merry hell on Alec's head brain when he thought about them too hard.

Neck prickling, Alec opened his eyes again to find Dean staring at him in that peculiar way he seemed to have perfected during the weeks his misplaced-in-time clone had been staying with him and his brother. It was an expression of evenly matched incredulity, curiosity and amusement with just the faintest hint of sadness thrown into the mix.

The grin spreading lazily over the older man's features was equally familiar by now, and Alec hurried to ask, "Who the hell is she anyway?" before Dean could let loose with what was undoubtedly going to be a joke of which Alec was going to be the butt.

Stabbing the fork into his cherry pie with unnecessary force, face clouding over, Dean answered, "An ally."

"You don't sound real sure about that," Alec observed unconcerned, shoving another piece of chocolaty heaven into his mouth and absently wondering how long it took Sam in the bathroom.

"That's because I'm not." Shaking himself, Dean finally began attacking his own pie with gusto.

"She's a demon, you expect me to believe she's helping us out of the goodness of her heart?"

Oh. Well, that would explain the fire and brimstone.

The thought barely crossed his mind when Alec caught another whiff of that smell. Turning around in confusion, he didn't see anyone but the late-twenties Asian waitress ambling up to them with a coffee pot in hand.

"Careful, Dean," she said, the almost purring quality of her voice a sharp contrast to the blushing, stumbling stutter when Dean had made a pass at her earlier on. "He might get the impression that you don't like me."

Traveling cross-country with the Winchesters, Alec had found himself stuck in one or two seriously out-there situations, but really, _what the hell?_ Dean didn't seem to have the same problem.

"Now where would he get that idea?" he asked almost amiably, but Alec didn't miss his sudden tension. He still didn't know what was going on.

Refilling their cups as if nothing was wrong, the waitress's attention shifted to Alec without deigning to reply to Dean's quip.

"And who do we have here?" she asked silkily. "The littlest Winchester." Her smirk suddenly changed to a lascivious leer at the same time her eyes went black. "Or maybe not so little."

And just like that, Alec knew what was happening. _Right. Demon. Possession._ He had read about that in John Winchester's journal and several other occult works Sam had recommended.

"Ruby?" he demanded, just as Dean choked out his own horrified, "You slept with her?"

"She offered!" Not that he needed to defend his actions. And strictly speaking, it hadn't exactly been an offer.

After last night's harrowing experience, Sam had come over one more time to introduce the (what Alec had still believed to be human) woman. Dean had been grouching like Alec hadn't seen before, but the chick was hot, and other than her ability to give as good as she got when it came to the older Winchester's scathing remarks, Alec didn't see anything wrong with her.

Hence, when she had shown up on his doorstep again about an hour later, with the brothers in their own room down the hall, he hadn't thought twice about inviting her in. Hadn't thought twice about kissing back either, when she stepped up to him with an appreciative glint in her eyes, stating, "Oh, I _am_ going to enjoy this!" and kissed him with hungry lips.

Hot chick, jumping his bones... Who was he to say no?

Ruby stayed most of the night, but not until dawn. However, in the twilight hours of morning when Alec had still been mostly asleep, he thought he heard her murmur something into his ear.

"Don't worry, kitten. I'll try to make sure your brothers stay alive until it's time for you to reunite with them." _Whatever the hell that meant..._

"And your little boy here definitely knows what he's doing," Ruby was taunting right now.

Alec preened, even as Dean leveled a heavy glare on him.

"Anyway," the Asian woman continued, and it was just plain weird to hear Ruby's vocal pattern from a woman who, a few minutes ago, hadn't been able to speak English without garbling the grammar. "I gotta be off. Watch out for grizzly hunters."

And she turned on her heels, busily walking through a swinging door at the back of the diner, where the kitchen had to be, mere seconds before Sam finally exited the bathroom.

"What the hell was that?"

Dean shrugged, annoyance still playing over his eerily familiar features. "I guess she just wanted to rub my face in..." Grimacing with distaste, he didn't finish the sentence but complained, "Seriously, _Ruby_?"

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_to be continued..._


	10. P2, Scene 4

A/N: Okay, I think I need to clarify sth about the last scene: you all interpret way too much into sth the sole purpose which was supposed to be funny (somewhat). Dean doesn't like Ruby. Ruby doesn't like Dean. Ruby does take a liking to Alec and takes the opportunity to get one up on Dean. Add to that that I think she genuinely wants to help Sam get rid of Lilith (for her own reasons, but still), and there's no reason to find anything ominous ;)

Also, my internet access acts up, I'm just glad I'm able to post this chapter at the moment. Any unanswered comments will be replied to when my connection is a bit more stable. Until then, thanks to all of you for the great feedback I've been getting =D

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**Part Two:** A Life in Passing

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**Scene Four**

_~Another one of those generic motel rooms, July 4__th__, 2007~_

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Alec could have kicked himself for not recognizing the signs earlier.

Honestly, he was a highly trained assassin, a decent combat soldier and if the situation called for it he could find his way out of a desert or a jungle. He might not like it, but he was able to do it. So why was it apparently an impossible task to keep up with his medication? It's not like he didn't know about his condition, about the one Achilles heel the majority of X5s had in common.

Berating his own stupidity Alec clenched his hands around his knees, wedged into the corner between bed and wall, as his body betrayed him.

The seizures had started in the early morning, about two hours or so ago. It wasn't bad at first. Just a little tremble in his hands and the curious sensation as if he was walking on a ship on high seas and he had thought there was time enough to wait until the little pharmacy around the corner opened before the shakes got out of hand. Dean and he had made enough money hustling pool the evening before, and in 2007 the Tryptophan was readily available. He was able to come by his meds honestly for once, so there was really no reason to take the risk and break into the store.

Alec had lain down on his bed again, thinking he'd just watch some more TV, enjoy the music playing while he could before getting stuck in the Impala with Dean's ancient metal bands screeching into his ears for another day. Alec loved Dean's black behemoth of a car, double-floored trunk and all, but his template's choice of music was... not his. At all.

He'd woken up shaking so bad that he had crashed to the floor when he tried to stand up.

By now, Alec would have considered calling Sam's or Dean's cell if his fingers hadn't been too clumsy to press the right keys.

A knock on the door let his head snap up. Alec's motor control was so unhinged, however, that he accidentally knocked it against the wall hard enough to have him curse out loud.

"Leave me alone," he groaned, barely able to talk without stuttering. If he had to be sick as a dog, he wanted to be sick in peace. The rational part of his mind reminded him that those seizures wouldn't be done with him being sick as a dog, that it would only get worse and someone (_the Winchesters_) finding him might be a good thing, but like a sick animal Alec just wanted to hole up somewhere and forget about the rest of the world.

Dean's voice outside of the door yanked him back to reality and the fact that he needed his meds, like, an hour ago. "Alec?" Dean called. "You alright?"

Alec resisted the immediate and ludicrous urge to assure the other man that he was _just fine, dammit!_ He was so very not alright that he almost laughed out loud. Instead, he stared defiantly at the turning doorknob when Dean on the other side decided to forgo privacy and come barging in, an old grumpy looking man in tow.

"Alec?"

The older Winchester all but leaped over the bed when he caught sight of his clone shaking like a junkie going cold-turkey. Overprotective and paranoid was not a desirable combination, Alec decided while he endured Dean's hand on his forehead, his other checking Alec for injuries. He tried batting the intruding fingers away, but he couldn't get his movements coordinated enough to even budge the other man.

The stranger's reaction was quite the opposite. It was infinitely more familiar though. Without warning, Alec had a gun pointed at his face. Again. At least now he had an idea as to who, or rather what, the old man was. Gray-streaked and bearded, with a ratty old baseball cap on his head, the guy looked like a rednecked trucker or something and Alec suddenly heard Ruby's last warning in his ears. _'Watch out for grizzly hunters.'_

"Dean!" the old hunter warned tightly. Before Dean even opened his mouth, however, Alec snapped (tried to at any rate), "You know, I'm r-really sick of people pointing a g-gun at me 'cause they think I'm a shape-shifter."

Confusion flickered in the man's eyes. He didn't lower the gun however.

"Put the piece away, Bobby," Dean ordered without so much as looking at the old man. "He's not a shifter."

From Alec, he demanded, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Clenching his jaw, Alec road out another wave of tremors.

"Alec?"

The panic that crept into Dean's voice now didn't bode well, so Alec stuttered out, "They f-fucked up our... our brain chemistry."

"You mean to say this happened before?" Dean sounded incredulous and pissed off. He looked it, too, when the younger man grunted and tried to nod without banging his head against the wall once more.

"You take any meds?"

Alec winced. If he knew Dean at all, this wouldn't go over well. "Usually."

"Well, where the hell are they?"

The older Winchester already turned in the direction of the small bathroom, making to stand up when Alec forced the words out, "Ran out." About three days ago as a matter of fact. He'd meant to restock but there was always something else going on and Alec hadn't gotten around to actually doing it.

"You ran out?" Dean echoed, and yeah, he was definitely pissed off now. "You have some kind of fucking epilepsy which you neglected to mention to either of us and to make it worse you forgot to get your meds?" He punched Alec into his arm. Hard. Alec glared up at him in response.

"I thought you were supposed to be intelligent!"

"S-sorry."

The grizzly hunter, Bobby, had come around the bed to loom over the two younger men and observed their interaction with unconcealed curiosity. The wariness was still there but at least the gun had disappeared.

"Maybe you should save the lectures for later and ask him what medication he needs, boy."

There was the faintest hint of amusement in that gruff voice. Dean seemed to catch it too, because he twisted around to glare at the man before focusing on Alec again and wordlessly raising a brow in question.

"Tryptophan," he informed his lookalike obediently, clutching his knees tightly when another seizure took hold. When he could breathe normally again he added, "Milk takes the edge off."

Once again, Dean prepared to stand up but Bobby waved him down and volunteered, "I'll get it. You stay with him. And I'll send Sam with a glass of milk."

A look of relief washing over his face, Dean nodded. "Thanks, Bobby."

"You can thank me by explaining that doppelgänger when I get back!" The loud thud of a door snapping shut followed the old man's order.

Alec let his head fall down on his knees, tired beyond belief. The warm hand that settled on the back of his neck felt comforting even as the tremors picked up once again.

"That a tattoo on your neck, kid?" Alec heard Dean wonder curiously, and he quipped "I hear it's considered an art form." Sick he might be but his mouth was still working.

An hour later the group was gathered in Alec's room, Alec himself propped up against the headrest, his third mug of milk clasped in his hands. He still shivered now and again and every time it happened Sam cast a worried glance his way. Dean wasn't as obvious in showing his concern, but Alec would have to take a bathroom break soon if Dean continued to pour milk down his throat like that.

At the moment, though, they were all three busy watching Bobby pace up and down the small room, muttering obscenities, and several versions of 'never in my life.' Finally, he stopped, stared at them some more and demanded, "From the future?"

"Yup," Dean confirmed, a smile playing around his lips.

"You been spreading your genes around, boy?"

Alec snorted. "That's one way of putting it."

Thus began the truly unbelievable part of their explanation. To Bobby's credit, he heard them out, only shaking his head in blatant disbelief a couple of times.

"Genetically engineered super-soldiers," he repeated dumbstruck when they were finished, still shaking his head.

"Believe me, Bobby," Dean empathized with that wry smile of his, "I know how you feel. And I'll say it again: demons I get; people are just plain crazy."

Alec tended to agree with him, especially since he had seen some of the concoctions Manticore's scientists had come up with. Mole with his greenish brown scales and double-lidded eyes didn't even rank in the top ten of DNA tinkering gone awry.

"Humans who want to play God," Sam spat, disgust plain to see. "There's got to be something we can –"

"No!" Alec interrupted, alarmed. He knew where Sam was going with this and it was not going to happen if Alec had any say in this. "Don't go poking around Manticore, Sam! I mean it! The ones who try have the unfortunate tendency to turn up dead!"

"We know how to cover our tracks, Alec," Sam tried to soothe, but the transgenic wouldn't have any of it.

"No! Promise me, Sam!" he insisted. "No poking around Manticore! Besides, what are you gonna do? Set us all free? How do you think people will react to a bunch of kids with preternatural abilities? Fuck, some of us don't even look human!"

"Well, hell," Booby took off his cap and scratched his scraggy hair. "I know how hunters would react."

"Exactly," Alec agreed forcefully, unbidden pictures standing behind his eyes, pictures of Joshua's phantom image making the news, of a friend beaten to death and strung up for everyone to see. "People fear what they don't know," he whispered. Then, a bit louder again, he told them, "Whatever else it was, Manticore is the best place for us to be right now."

Max would disagree with him of course but then Maxie had trouble seeing the bigger picture sometimes, or else she would never have pushed the button that forced Madame Director to make good on her threats and push _her_ little red button that made the barracks go kaboom.

Sam stared at him for a good minute before he finally nodded his head in capitulation. Something nagged at Alec, though, and replaying the conversation in his head, he thought of something else that hadn't entered his mind until now.

"So, since we're already talking about sleeping dogs and all that," he began tentatively, "do you know anything about cults? A breeding cult whose members call themselves the Familiars in particular?"

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_to be continued..._


	11. P2, Scene 5

A/N: I have to confess this might be my personal favorite chapter of this story...

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**Part Two:** A Life in Passing

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**Scene Five**

_~On the road, July 11__th__, 2007~_

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It had started out with an accident.

Seriously.

Alec thought himself to be completely innocent since he had had no intention of consciously annoying the older Winchester – this time. And it wasn't as if Dean had never been annoyed with Alec before, so his transgenic mirror image didn't understand what was so different this time around.

Okay, so he had used up all the hot water in the shower, but who could blame him? It was a luxury that he had never gotten to properly enjoy back home; certainly not at Manticore, and while there had been a boiler in Alec's Seattle digs, it was busted up more times than not. His new quarters in Terminal City didn't even bear thinking about as far as a decent shower was concerned. And while they tried to make do, running hot water just wasn't a very high priority at the moment.

Maybe he should have told Dean to wait for fresh water to heat up though.

But no, not Alec's fault that they had to share a room again because the motel of the day didn't have enough vacancies. Not _Alec's_ fault that it only had a cheap-ass on-demand water heater either. And it certainly was _not_ Alec's fault that Dean didn't test the water temperature before stepping into the spray.

What had followed had been three days of complete insanity. Never knowing what to expect next and when to expect it. Always trying to stay one step ahead.

All the same, Alec was now forced to wear a very, very embarrassing and hideous 'Hello Kitty'-t-shirt, because all his other shirts had miraculously disappeared and Sam (the traitor!) refused to lend Alec any of his because he wanted to stay _neutral, _(_big fat liar_). Alec now also sported a rash in places he'd rather not think about (figures; Manticore never considered extending their immunizations to itching powder) and, to top it all off, Alec's hair was now a vibrant eye-assaulting red. How Dean had managed to slip the dye past his exceptional nose and eyes he'd never understand.

To be fair, though, Dean had spent a very uncomfortable evening... not leaving the bathroom (Alec was careful to read the instructions beforehand; he didn't want to overdo it with the Castor oil, after all), was now the proud possessor of a collection of baby pink socks, and their last motel clerk had had a giggling fit every time Dean had tried to flirt with her (not that people actually _needed_ a lot of convincing to believe he had hot, kinky, gay sex with Sam, the way the two of them lived out of each other's pockets).

According to some unspoken rules (which Sam had been kind enough to explain before settling back to enjoy the show) it was Dean's turn again. It was already well past noon, however, and no retaliation had been attempted. To say Alec was nervous was... well, actually quite accurate. Dean had proven himself to be a formidable opponent.

He started when something soft landed in his lap. Looking down, he saw a plain green plastic sack with an unidentifiable gray lump squished into it.

"Come on, open it!" Dean encouraged him, meeting Alec's eyes in the rear view mirror. "It's a gift."

"A gift?" Alec repeated sceptically.

"Yeah, you know," Dean waved one hand elaborately, the other one staying firmly on the wheel, "a gift. Like, 'Happy Birthday' or something. What, you've never gotten a gift before?"

Alec hadn't, in fact.

Well. There were those self-made boxer shorts Normal had given him for his last show fight as Monty Cora. It wasn't that Alec didn't appreciate the gesture; he did a great deal, despite Max's mocking, but therein lay the problem. Alec rather liked to avoid being reminded of that whole disastrous episode because that kick had _hurt_. The little vixen never did play fair. And then there was the birthday cake Normal had baked for him that day when everything had gone so spectacularly south. There was a pattern there that Alec wasn't sure what to make of.

Intrigued despite himself, Alec ignored Dean's question and carefully picked at the knot. Had to be a trap, for sure. Of some kind. Still, it looked innocent enough.

The gray lump turned out to be a stuffed cat, and he examined it for a few seconds, but there was nothing more to it. No booby trap that Alec could detect. Could it really be just a gift? Dean did like to take allusions to his feline heritage a bit far.

But no. No way. Not while this strange war between them was still going strong.

"What is it?" he asked in confusion, squeezing the scratchy thing a little and holding it up to his eyes. He registered Dean's intent, expectant look into the rear view mirror at the same time the scent reached his olfactory system.

"Oh," he made, an absent-minded smile stealing onto his lips. "Oh. That smells kinda nice."

It did. Alec couldn't help but take another sniff, rubbing his nose across the plushy material. And then his tongue dipped out to lick the fur, and the smell only intensified. He got hair into his mouth, but at the moment he didn't care.

"Awesome!" he heard Dean exclaim, but like the hair in his mouth, he didn't care. He did feel like rubbing against the car door and chewing on a stuffed limb to set that delicious smell free.

"Dude, give me my phone, I need a picture!"

"Dean!" Sam obviously tried to sound reproachful, but the laughter beneath the words ruined the effect. "Did you just drug him?"

There was a little mechanical noise that Alec had no desire to place at the moment. The world had developed a pretty, pretty shine, colors sparkled and he felt like he was floating on clouds.

"I wasn't sure if it would work," Dean confessed to his brother. "Some cats aren't affected at all."

The words somehow made it through the haze that had settled over Alec's mind and, even more bizarre and astounding, some part of him made the connection. Catnip. He vaguely recalled his handlers being worried about that when they had cleared him for solo missions. It had never been a problem before today.

He would so get Dean for this.

Right now, though, he felt too good to bother.

"Is he purring?"

"Huh. Didn't know he could do that."

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_to be continued..._


	12. P2, Scene 6

A/N: I am way behind replying to your reviews, but trust me when I say they are greatly appreciated. I've said it before, my internet access is acting up, which is why I didn't update yesterday. The connection seems stable for now, but I'm not sure it will remain that way =( So, Part three is finished (if not yet beta-ed), although I'd better not promise to update daily as I have been doing until now (explanation see above). Anyway, enjoy...

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**Part Two:** A Life in Passing

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**Scene Six**

_~And back again to the small clearing in the forest outside of Seattle, July 14__th__ 2007~_

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They drove back to Seattle just in time for the new moon.

In twilight they moved along the same deer path they had taken that first time, only that this time Alec was taking point. Night vision came in handy sometimes and the small flashlights Sam and Dean had at the ready would hinder their genetically enhanced brother more than they would help. There had been a downpour only half an hour ago and thick water droplets came down from the trees like a second rain, soaking their hair and making splish-splashy noises when they hit the puddles on the ground.

Alec was as nervous and jittery as he had ever been and couldn't stop talking. He talked throughout the drive, he talked while making his way through the underbrush, he continued talking even when Sam told him in no uncertain terms to shut his mouth or else... Sammy was really inventive about the 'or else' part too.

During his time with the Winchester brothers he had seen some pretty strange, illogical, impossible things (_bat-shit crazy was the only word to describe some of them properly, in Alec's humble opinion_). Even so he still had trouble believing that stepping through a couple of weathered old stones during the right time frame would take him back where he belonged. It ranked right up there with stepping into a mirror and falling down a rabbit hole.

If he was completely honest with himself, though, it wasn't just the fear of never being able to leave, of being stuck here for good that kept his mouth running. It was the prospect of this whole insane theory actually working that didn't let him shut up.

Only four weeks and he'd already gotten in too deep, didn't want to leave these (_his_) two dysfunctional, loyal, smart-ass, headstrong brothers behind. He fit with them as he'd never fit anywhere before. Not into his unit, not with Max and Logan, not even Josh and Mole. Alec had gotten a taste of what having an actual family could be like and to his chagrin he was caught hook, line and sinker.

Even if his hair was still ridiculously, blinding red.

"Dude, shut the hell up, will you?" Dean finally snarled.

He sounded irritated, had been snappish and short-tempered for the last two days now.

"Either it's going to work or it's not," Sam offered, playing his by now accustomed role of referee once again. "If it's not, we'll deal with it. If it is, we'll see you on the other side."

That kind of brought Alec up short. He had never even thought of the possibility.

"You will?" he asked, hope and disbelief (and _hope, hope, hope_) mingling in his voice and painfully tightening his chest.

"Yes," Sam confirmed, that stubborn 'Watch me!'-tone in his voice that Alec had heard only a couple of times in his weeks with them, completely ignoring Dean's reproachful "Sam!"

"We will!"

Alec knew why Dean was so obviously reluctant to give a promise like that, or at least he had a good idea. Living their way of life, doing the job they did with no back-up but the arsenal in the Impala's trunk and the occasional help of another hunter, Dean probably never even expected to see thirty.

A sentence one of them had uttered in the beginning when they had still been teaching him the ropes stuck with Alec like nothing else they said: "Hunters don't retire; they are buried."

Alec just had to look at Bobby for that statement to ring true. The grizzly old man claimed he had taken himself out of the game several long years ago, but even he stayed on the up and up, lent a helping hand whenever the two Winchesters needed it. You just didn't turn your back on a job, no, a _calling_ like that.

But Sam's quiet determination was heartwarming nonetheless.

"Listen," Alec began hesitantly just as the trees receded. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

In fact, he had been adopting and dismissing the idea for several days now. Alec still wasn't too sure about his decision but now that he had brought it up he plowed on, carefully keeping his back to the brothers, "Manticore, they... designed some of us as twins."

He stepped into the dark clearing and turned around to face the other two men at last. The penlights blinded him momentarily, but he recovered quickly enough to see realization dawning on Sam and Dean's faces as he continued, "There's another X5 with your DNA out there, Dean."

For a moment Dean's face was a blank mask. Then he nodded.

"Ben," he stated, and Alec had almost forgotten their little game of mistaken identity when all this had started. "Your brother."

"Yeah." Alec was never comfortable talking about his twin but hurried on nevertheless, thinking it would be best to get it over with fast, like ripping off a patch.

"The thing is, in 2009 a couple of us will be successful in running away from... from there. Ben was one of them."

"Alec," Sam interrupted quickly, a frown creeping onto his forehead. "I don't know if you should be telling..."

Alec talked over him as if he hadn't even heard his objection, "I want you to look for him, if you're, you know, still around."

Anxiously, he watched the two men, mentally crossing his fingers that this whole idea wouldn't backfire on him in some way. The expressions appearing on the brother's faces didn't bode well.

Dean had donned that blank look again, a look that Alec had noticed several times already but never sought to figure out. In hindsight, that might have been a mistake. The only tell of discomfort Dean showed at the moment was the nervous tick in his cheek. Sam on the other hand was clearly torn between the threat of unforeseeable consequences and wanting to promise Alec and to hell with anything else.

"Why?" he finally asked and Alec had to smile. Leave it to Sam to ask the easiest questions with the most complicated answers.

"Ben, he..." Alec began. Stopped and tried again, "I never even met him, but Max, she said that he was... lost in the world outside. He started to make human sacrifices for this make-belief deity of his. Max had to put him down in the end."

The two men looked appalled then and Sam was already taking a breath but before he could start with whatever accusations he wanted to throw at him, Alec hurried on, "I just think... I don't know what exactly I think. But I know what it was like for me when Manticore burned down and I was on my own all of a sudden. The excitement about my new-found freedom got old fast. I just wanted my unit back."

Which was one of the more important reasons Alec had tried to insinuate himself into Max's life. His unit might have been lost to him, scattered to all four winds, but at least he knew where to find that one of his own kind.

Most felines might be loners but humans usually weren't. And the donor of the human part of that DNA of his, of Ben's, depended on those he called kin more than any other human Alec had ever met.

"You want us to take him in?" the older Winchester guessed. Alec could only nod mutely, not sure what else to say to push his case.

"Alec, you know I... we can't make that kind of promise."

Dean's weary voice was followed by Sam's, "No kid deserves to have to live the way we do."

His bitterness was ill-concealed and Dean shot him an admonishing look, years of unresolved issues hidden in that one glance.

"X5s aren't cut out for your white-picket-fence dream, Sam. We were built to be soldiers and it's what we do best. 2007, I could disassemble and reassemble an AK 47 in less than two minutes. You really think growing up on the road could be worse than growing up as a secret government experiment?"

Only the sounds of the wilderness around them could be heard for a few moments after Alec made his argument. Then Sam sighed.

"Yeah. I guess you have a point."

"Sam."

Dean's warning cut his brother short once again, but he sounded more tired than anything. Helpless and completely irrational desperation welling up inside him, Alec pleaded, "I know you can't promise anything, Dean. I _know_, okay? But can you at least try? If you live through the next two years, can you at least _try_ to find him?"

Alec didn't understand himself why he was so adamant about this. Ben had never caused him anything but trouble. He should have been asking the brothers to take him down when he was still a child, before he ever had a chance to go off on a killing spree. There was the vague notion that, if the Winchesters could keep Ben on the straight and narrow, maybe Alec wouldn't have to endure that last visit to Psy Ops. It was more than that, however, more than he wanted to admit even to himself.

Dean, who had been watching him intently for the last minute, finally nodded reluctantly.

"Alright," he said, rubbing the back of his head in a gesture that was so ridiculously familiar Alec almost laughed out loud in relief.

"Alright. But first let's see about getting you back, yeah?"

Not waiting for a reply, Dean shoved him in the shoulder in order to turn him around and get him moving. Out of the corner of his eyes Alec saw a small sad smile playing around Sam's lips.

In front of the gateway Alec stopped, turned around to face the two brothers _(the closest thing to a real family that he would ever have)_ and faltered, not knowing what to say. He really wasn't good at saying goodbye. In the end, he didn't utter a single word and neither did Dean or Sam. Whatever any of them could have said, they all already knew anyway.

He made the rest of the way on his own, walking around the monoliths and stepping into the v they formed. The waterlogged ground clotted to his soles, making his boots heavy. Taking a deep breath, Alec cast one last glance at his friends and stepped through the gap in the stones. Only to find himself still face to face with them and, really, what had he expected? Any sane person could have told him that magic portals didn't exist.

Then again, if the last four weeks had taught him anything, being sane was totally overrated.

"Oh, _come on_!" Alec almost stomped his foot in childish disappointment.

"Sam?" he heard Dean turn on his brother and Sam answered, defensive and sheepish alike, "I told you guys I couldn't decipher some of the symbols."

"You also told me that all I had to do to get back is cross the threshold during a new moon!" Alec accused.

"No, I said I was _pretty sure_ that that's all you had to do." Sam retorted, unrepentant and mulish.

"Great, just great!"

Huffing, Alec crossed his arms over his chest when the brothers started talking over each other once again.

"Oh, don't be such a wuss!" Dean razzed and gave him a good-natured punch to the shoulder for good measure.

Usually, it wouldn't even have made Alec trip. But the puddle and wet leaves beneath his feet were slippery and in his exasperation he hadn't paid attention. Hence, he found himself stumbling backwards through those bedeviled stones all over again. His arms shot out to grapple for a hold but the stones were frozen over and he slipped.

The last thing he heard before landing ungracefully and painfully on his butt was Sam's, "Well, what exactly happened when –"

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**Interlude**

_~A small clearing in the forest outside of Seattle, July 15__th__, 2007~_

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_

An owl was flying silently over the treetops looking for prey.

Droplets of recent rain dripped down the leaves and soaked into the earth, leaving behind muddy puddles and glistening on grass and spider webs.

The two men in front of the tall stones, the Devil's Gateway as it was known to the few locals who still knew their folklore, stood silently for a few minutes. The flashlights they held were the only source of light in the pitch black darkness of a new moon. It illuminated the monoliths for the most part, but some of it reflected off their faces. They both looked wistful, wearing bittersweet smiles that were so similar they could only be kin.

Finally, the taller one of them gestured slightly with the hand that held his torch.

"Well, I guess that answers that question."

The other one snorted in wry amusement. "Ya think?"

He sighed, then nudged his companion with his shoulder and turned around. As he was heading for a small deer path across the clearing he declared, "You know, I think I will kind of miss the kid."

His brother, younger despite his height, had to take long strides to catch up with him. "Maybe we'll see him again someday," he offered hopefully. "Like thirteen and a half years from now."

The older one was silent for a long time. Then, as he crossed over into the even darker shadows beneath the trees, he said quietly, "You will. Not me."

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**Continuation Scene Six**

_~A small clearing in the forest outside of Seattle, about thirteen and a half years into the future~_

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_

When he looked up to see why Sam had stopped talking, rubbing his throbbing tail bone, it was to see his own face smirking back down at him.

"You know, red really doesn't suit you, little brother."

_Well._

Alec's eyebrows rose as he dazedly stared up at a very much alive, sane looking X5-493. Something metallic caught his eye as his twin bent down and offered Alec a helping hand up and when he looked closer, he recognized an old but well cared for Colt 1911 riding in the waistband of Ben's jeans; a Colt 1911 with an ivory handle and strange markings on its barrel.

_I'll be damned._

**~ End Part Two ~**

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A/N:Originally, I intended to end the story here. But then Ben protested and demanded an explanation as to how he'd come by Dean's gun (Colt 1911 is a modell name btw, and not THE Colt; in fact, it's a semi-automatic I think). And then more scenes kept popping up, so the next part will mostly be about Ben and the Winchesters. Just thought I'd warn you ;)


	13. P3, Scene 1

A/N: Yay! Internet's working at the moment =)

I'm not sure exactly when in '09 the infamous twelve escaped, only that it was still winter, so I made it up =)

If you don't know what a grimoire is, check wikipedia ;) I'd give you the link, but...

Also, I thought I made this clear in the beginning (what with Dean mistaking Alec for Ben Braeden, and all) this story is set somewhere in S3, logically after 'The Kids are Alright.' Hence, the demon is out of the picture (at least if you were thinking about yellow-eyes), Dean's throw-away line last chapter was refering to his deal (he didn't exactly expect to be resurrected), and, as far as I know, Sam didn't use his powers in that season. He didn't even get a vision. Anything else? Oh, yeah, I did refer to Alec and Dean as clone and template a couple of times, so it's a safe bet that that's what they are (use your own imagination as to how they got a hold of Dean's DNA; there are enough possibilities to choose from) ;) Let's not try and make things more complicated, ok? Sorry, but those questions just irked me a bit. I apologize if I hurt any feelings explaining myself as I did.

For the following chapters: this is a straight-out AU for SN from this point on. I don't know anything more about S4 than Dean coming back, Sam using his powers, Sam sleeping with Ruby (I miss her old skin, btw) and... no, that's basically it. I don't mind being spoilered, though, if you feel the need to.

And now without further rambling...

*typo edited. See any more mistakes , let me know!

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**Part Three:** In the Beginning

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**Scene One**

_~On the back roads of Wyoming, __February__ 2009~_

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Wyoming in February 2009 was a cold, desolate place to be.

Or at least it was if your name was Dean Winchester and you were driving the back roads, through snow, woods and wilderness, stuck in the car arguing with your little brother. The old Chevy's heating was acting up, now producing only a lukewarm breath of filtered air, other times so hot Dean had to pull off his jacket and pullover to be comfortable which didn't help improve his mood.

After everything that they'd been through, everything they had survived during the past two years _(he'd gotten out of hell, he still couldn't believe it, he wasn't damned to spent eternity down there; not yet anyway)_ there were even more unresolved issues between Sam and Dean than ever before.

Still, what Sam had told him back during those first few months on the road together, leaving behind Stanford and still mourning for the girl he had wanted to marry, held true even now: the only way this whole thing was going to end was together. They were brothers and they stuck with each other. They might argue, they might even try to walk away every now and again, but in the end it would always be Sam-and-Dean, Dean-and-Sam. Not even hell, not even interfering angels could change that. Dean wouldn't let them.

In all this time Dean hadn't forgotten the kid they'd met the summer of 2007. In fact, he remembered it as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

Alec. Alec McDowell. His clone with cat-genes. It was so out there and if Dean hadn't seen what the kid could do first hand, Alec could have been his little brother. Could have been his _son_ _(Jesus Christ!)_ since an unfortunate incident had landed Alec thirteen years back in the past with the Winchesters stumbling across him by yet another peculiar twist of fate. Someone up there sure had a strange sense of humor.

Alec was also currently the topic of another argument between Dean and his brother.

"You know, we made a promise, Dean!" Sam gritted his teeth in a futile effort to reign in his temper.

"What do you want me to do, Sam?" Punching the wheel since he was no less angry, Dean shot his brother a furious look. "He didn't tell us when it happens. He didn't even tell us _where_ it happens!"

"There're ways we can find out where –"

"No!" Dean's denial was quick and forceful. "We made a promise to not go poking around either!"

Sam leveled another glare at him, then settled back against the passenger's door. The muscles in his cheek were clenching, his brows drawn down, and he was glaring into the distance as if he wanted to set the woods on fire. These days, Dean wasn't so sure that he couldn't do it, too, if he really set his mind to it.

It was times like these that Sam reminded Dean so much of their father it was downright scary. No wonder they never saw eye to eye once Sammy hit puberty. They were too much alike in character if not beliefs.

"Besides," Dean added, looking away from the road for a moment to look at his brother, "you said it yourself: the way we live, we can't take care of a kid." Not with demons still after Sam and freaking _angels_ interfering left and right.

He truly hated playing devil's advocate. Deep down he wanted to find this child as well, Alec's twin who would run away from where ever those kids were held some time this year. Unfortunately, that didn't make his arguments any less valid.

Dean fully expected Sam to launch into another tirade but his younger brother _(twenty-five already, where had the years gone?)_ suddenly straightened in his seat, eyes wide and yelled, "Dean!"

Dean slammed on the brakes even as his head whipped around onto the road again. His own eyes widened when he noticed what had Sam shouting, and he swerved the car, hoping, praying his baby wouldn't have to endure another crash.

The Impala skidded, fish-tailed and came to a shrieking halt partway on the opposite lane. Both brothers just sat and stared for a moment, adrenalin rushing through their blood. Sam's flat hands still pushed against the dashboard and Dean had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

"Holy shit!"

As one they turned around in their seats to look out of the rear windshield. There on the side of the road stood a child, shorn hair, dressed in nothing but a thin blue hospital nightdress, skin almost as white as the snow on the ground and on the crowns of the trees. Frozen just one step into the road, the kid stared at them like the proverbial deer in the headlights, white clouds of breath puffing into the air.

"Holy shit!" he cursed again and was out of the car, Sam not far behind him.

Crouching down in front of the child, Dean grabbed him by small shoulders, adrenalin still running high, and exclaimed, "Jesus Christ, kid! What the hell were you thinking? Are you hurt?"

Never mind the inappropriate gown, never mind the lack of shoes. He didn't wait for the boy to find his voice, just padded him down carefully, patently ignoring the sudden tensing of muscles, but other than the chilly skin and a few scrapes he didn't find any injuries.

"Dean."

Sam's voice sounded strange, strangled, and Dean turned around to figure out what was wrong. Sam, however, stared at the child who stared back, big eyes wide in alarm and Dean had seen enough fight-or-flight expressions in his life to recognize this one.

Eyes.

The kid's eyes were a cat-green that Dean had only ever seen once before on a person, reflecting the light of the Impala's headlights when Dean moved to face him again. Cat eyes. And in that moment it truly registered what he was seeing.

A young boy dressed in nothing but a hospital night shirt, his hair kept in a marine style boot cut, seemingly unaffected by the cold. A young boy whose face was captured in the few childhood photographs John Winchester had taken of his sons.

"Ben?"

Unconsciously holding his breath Dean watched as those wide eyes focused on him, suspicion warring with surprise and wonder. Finally, curiosity won out and the boy asked, "How do you know my name?"

Casting a glance back at Sam, Dean saw the slow smile blooming on his brother's face and knew he'd undoubtedly and irrevocably lost their argument from before. Now that they'd almost literally run into the very child they'd been discussing there was no way in hell Dean would turn his back on Alec's twin, and Sam knew it too. It had been hard enough saying goodbye to Alec, as annoying as the transgenic _(their baby brother)_ had been more often than not.

Turning his attention to Ben once more, he replied warmly, "You've got someone watching out for you, kiddo!"

If he meant Alec who had been so adamant that the Winchesters look for his twin or some higher power that had the boy stumbling right into their path, Dean didn't know. Didn't matter either, he decided as he started shepherding Ben to the Impala.

Although someone up there really did have a strange sense of humor.

"Come on, kid. We need to get you warm again, you feel like a Popsicle. Need to get away from Manticore's hounds too," he added, figuring there'd still be a manhunt going on. Just one of their test-tube kids was worth millions of dollars in R & D, and Alec had told them that there'd been a whole group who got away.

Dean was a bit surprised that Ben followed so willingly without even trying to put up a fight. He couldn't imagine Alec ever being this... not trusting, exactly, but compliant. Then again, this boy looked exhausted and frightened even though he valiantly tried to hide it and he'd only just escaped the cage he grew up in whereas Alec, by the time he fell through that archway, had been an adult and outside for near on a year.

With Ben walking in front of him, Dean had a clear view of a familiar bar code on the child's neck. Alec never explicitly told them what was up with that tattoo but the implications (which hadn't been hard to guess even back then) had Dean gritting his teeth in impotent anger.

By the car, Sam was already rummaging through the trunk looking for a blanket and, Dean guessed when he noticed the open bags, some clothes to put on the child until they could buy – or steal – actual children's wear. Until then, over-sized t-shirts and boxers would have to do.

Later that evening, in yet another run-down motel room Dean realized something while watching Ben feign sleep: the kid was waiting for a chance to get away.

The military training shone through right there. Even if Dean and his little brother had never actually been in the military themselves, their father sure had and he'd seen to it that his son's received the same training as John himself had with the Marines. One of the first lessons John Winchester had taught his sons was to keep moving in enemy territory. In their childhood days, that had mostly translated to staying one step ahead of child services, teachers and any other overly nosy individuals. Ben's first lesson wouldn't have been much different; although it would have been taken more literal.

The sudden need to hit or smash something rose up in Dean's blood, but he quelled the urge. As good as it would feel, it wouldn't help in the long run. If Sam and he wanted to keep that boy, they would have to give him a reason to stay.

Listening to the shower running and Sam bumping his freakish long limbs against the confines of the too small stall, an idea formed in Dean's mind.

His father's journal, one of the most complete modern day grimoires* Dean had ever come across – if one of the most cluttered ones as well – also held the few childhood pictures of Sam and himself that John had taken. There was one in particular that showed Dean at about eight years, pushing four year old Sammy on a swing. The picture showed one of the scarce carefree moments he was able to remember. It would also show Ben that the kid had actual family in the world outside Manticore.

"Hey, kiddo!" Dean called, grabbed the journal and took out the picture. On the little bunk in the corner of the room, Ben didn't move. "Come on, I know you're not sleeping. I wanna show you something."

There was something to be said for cat DNA. Curiosity was definitely one of the traits that had carried over in the X5 hybrids, Dean thought in amusement as he watched Ben's eyes snap open and settle on him unerringly, reluctant interest shining brightly in his eyes.

"Look at this picture!" he said, crossing the room and perching himself on Sam's bed across from the boy. He held up the photograph to Ben's questioning gaze. Those cat eyes widened in surprise when the boy realized what he was seeing. Turning his stare on Dean, Ben stated, confused, suspicious and amazed, "That's me!"

"No," Dean corrected gently. "That's me and Sam, about twenty years ago." Flipping the picture around, Dean studied it for a few seconds, before sighing. "If you wanna split, we won't stop you."

They might have to come back for Ben later, but Dean didn't want to think about that for the moment.

Noticing the child's confusion, it took Dean a moment to realize at what point he had lost Ben. "Run away," he then clarified. "If you want to run away, Sam and I won't be able to stop you. But you've got family out here, Ben, and we'd like you to stay."

Huffing a small laugh, he added, "You know, we're kind of on the run too. So what do you say? We'll be on the run together for a while and if it doesn't work out for you, you can still take off."

For a moment, Dean was afraid he had swamped the boy with speech patterns that had to be frighteningly unfamiliar, but if he had learned anything about X5s from Alec it was that they were astonishingly quick on the uptake. Ben was no exception. Although he didn't say anything, the hunter was sure he understood.

"Just think about it, okay?"

His hand twitched with the desire to ruffle the child's almost non-existent hair, a move that had been prone to provoke Sammy's temper whenever Dean had done it to his little brother back in their teens. At the last moment, however, he thought better of it.

When the sun rose and Ben was still there, watching the brothers with wary but curious eyes from where he sat cross-legged on his bunk, Dean breathed a silent sigh of relief.

_._

_to be continued..._


	14. P3, Scene 2

A/N: New modem and my internet's working again (imagine me bouncing in excitement *g*) Now, after I'm done playing catch-up commenting on your reviews, it's time for a new chapter! And I apologize for any review I may have forgotten.

I also want to thank _Nichole_ and _Karen_ and any other person who's written an unsigned review during the course of the story! All of you guys regularly make my day! But please understand that I don't want to make the A/Ns any longer than I have to by adding comments on any reviews for which I can't use the reply-button. Just don't think your opinions aren't appreciated, because they are! A lot!

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**Part Three:** In the Beginning

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**Scene Two**

_~Somewhere east of the Rocky Mountains, June 2009~_

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"Sam!"

Watching in horror as a cloud of black smoke enveloped his brother, Dean strained forward, fighting against the arms holding him in place, the only coherent thought in his mind that he had to get to his little brother. He couldn't lose him again! He _wouldn't_ lose him again!

"_Sammy!"_

"Stand down, Dean!" a voice in his ears ordered. A familiar, well-loathed voice, and it kept right on telling him things he didn't want to hear, "He has to do this on his own, _that's_ what I have been preparing him for! If you interfere now, all you're going to do is distract him and _that_ will kill you _both_! I made a promise to one of your brothers about that, and whether you want to believe it or not, I intend to _keep_ it!"

Just then, a sharp blinding white ray of light literally cut through the heaving veil of smoke, shot up and up and up until it disappeared into the night sky. For a few countless seconds the world was illuminated by that ray, light burning into eyes like the too bright electric lamps in an interrogation room, vanquishing the shadows around Sam's tall outline. Then suddenly, the too bright light fanned, as if hitting a prism, and it was as if a thousand suns had fallen from the sky. Dean had to close his eyes against the blinding, painful rays that spread out across the whole country. Noise erupted from everywhere around them, dogs barking, cats yowling, the erratic, flapping sounds of birds shooting up into the air. A shock-wave of pure energy washed over him, paralyzed him. He was dimly aware of a body bringing him down to the ground, shielding him, arms too strong for the petite frame they were attached to.

And then it was over.

Darkness settled like a shroud over the land, more absolute than ever before. The silence was ringing in his ears. Slowly his eyes adjusted and found the form of his brother, huddled in an unmoving heap on the ground.

He felt Ruby shift on top of him and vaguely wondered why she hadn't been exorcised like all the other demons which had crowded in on Sam. The thought came and went, pushed aside by another one that was filling his mind with panic, throbbing with his erratic heartbeat, pushing against his throat until Dean let out another desperate scream, _"SAM!" –_

"...wake up!"

A quiet voice filtered into his muddled brain and Dean fought to claw his way out of the nightmare.

"Wake up, Dean! Please wake up!"

Small hands shook his shoulder with more force than they ought to possess. Dean's eyes snapped open to land on the frightened face of a nine year old boy, marginally grown out hair sticking up every which way. Behind the child he saw Sam's pale, haggard face resting on a pillow in the bed next to his.

Not a dream then. Even if it was a nightmare.

Groaning, Dean covered his eyes with one hand, muttering dejectedly, "I'm up, Ben."

What had happened was... Dean still couldn't quite make sense of what had happened. Lilith, their greatest demonic adversary, was gone, that much he had gathered from Ruby's griped cliff-notes-version of events. Not that he would have had the patience for anything else, out of his mind with worry about his brother as Dean was.

She had told him something about having to wait to time this right, for Sam's powers to develop, about an ancient banishing ritual and an incantation that was as dangerous for the caster as it was for those it was supposed to destroy. She had told him Sam hadn't wanted Dean in on this plan, because his little brother feared Dean would try to stop him. _At least the conspiratorial little shit had gotten that part right._

Sluggishly pushing himself off the mattress, Dean sat up to face the other bed and silently studied his brother. He couldn't quite recall how they had gotten here. But he did remember seeing Sam lying on the ground, blood dripping down his nose and across his chin, out of his ears, even out of the corners of his eyes. Flashes of broken mirrors and bloody letters stood before his mind's eye then, and Sam's voice chanting a different ritual, a summoning ritual _'Bloody Mary! Bloody Mary! Bloody Mary!'_

"Ruby said to tell you that he will make it."

Ben's quiet voice jerked Dean out of his memories, and for the first time since he had stormed out of the motel room the day before _(or was it two days ago already?)_ he really noticed the kid. His little clone did his best not to let it show, but the boy was as freaked out by what had happened, as worried about Sam as Dean himself was.

All of a sudden, guilt weighed down on the man's shoulders. When he had caught wind of Sam and Ruby's plan all he had been able to think about was stopping them, keeping his little brother from doing something incredibly _stupid_, incredibly _dangerous_. He had literally forgotten about the child in his care, had left Ben in the motel room by himself. Never mind that the boy was able to look after himself better than any other kid his age, Dean had left him alone without even telling him what was going on!

Reaching with his arm for the boy, Dean asked in a voice so rough he didn't recognize it, "Come here, Ben!"

When Ben complied, a confused frown marring his forehead, Dean gathered him up in his arms and pulled him onto his lap. Muscled tensing at the unfamiliar, unprecedented action, Ben held himself stiffly for a long moment, before he relaxed into the hold. Dean was glad. Even if Ben didn't want the comfort, he himself sure as hell needed someone to hold onto at this moment.

"I'm sorry, Ben," he thickly apologized, whispering into soft, dark-blond hair. "I'm sorry I just left you here!"

If he had expected anything in reply to his words, Dean would have gone with a silent nod of acknowledgment from the child. What he received was an awkward pat on his forearm and a not-so-childish reassurance.

"He smells better already. He's going to be fine."

Tightening his arms around the small body, heart aching, Dean smiled brokenly and rested his cheek against Ben's soft spikes of hair.

About three days later, they learned that the shock-wave Sam had set free not only repaired all those seals to hell that Lilith had managed to open but also wiped clean every single hard-drive from the Rockies to the east coast.

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_to be continued..._


	15. P3, Scene 3

A/N: And because I'm sooooo glad my internet's working again and I made you guys wait for two entire days *wink*...

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**Part Three:** In the Beginning

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**Scene Three**

_~Maine, October 2015~_

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It was a warm, sunny, beautiful Indian summer day somewhere in the Maine countryside. The perfect day for a pick-nick or a visit in the park with your family.

Unless, of course, you were part of the Winchester family.

Still, Dean would go as far as admitting to enjoy himself sitting on one of those wooden double benches with a table in the middle, what passed for a newspaper these days in front of him, his trusty Colt 1911 sitting right beside the paper and his brother standing behind him, scanning the gold-stubbled fields and the woods in the distance, leaves ablaze with reds and oranges.

If, you know, he was into this whole share-your-feelings-it's-good-for-you nonsense.

Here in the countryside, the repercussions of the Pulse back in '09 weren't as palpable as in the big cities. Or maybe he should rephrase that and say the repercussions of the Pulse were just as palpable as in the cities but in a completely different way.

There were exceptions, and, of course, there were boarded up storefronts in almost every town when the economy had crashed, but mostly, when it was a farming community, people just tightened their belts a notch and went about their everyday life as usual.

Vegetables were grown in the gardens, life-stock provided milk and meat. Old, nearly forgotten crafts (like spinning your own wool or manufacturing wooden barrels to name just a few) were revived when the modern day equivalent became too expensive or just not practical anymore. Trading goods for services or other goods was a common practice once again.

All in all, at least where this kind of small towns was concerned, it sometimes felt as if they were living in the 1900s. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. At least now Dean knew why Alec had gotten that wide-eyed look sometimes over things that used to be perfectly normal for Dean.

The guilt he felt for being essentially responsible for throwing the whole nation back about a hundred years in its evolution, however, was tempered more often than not by the knowledge that it could have been that much worse if Sam hadn't done what he did. It had taken Dean a while to come to terms with his brother's actions, but he couldn't undo the past and he had to admit that the results couldn't be argued with. At least hunting had gone back to normal. There were the usual uglies; vengeful spirits, wendigos, all those monsters in the closet. But the demons had mostly left them alone for the last six years, Lilith having been thoroughly thwarted in her plans and the seals she had broken back in place once more.

Sure, some patented Winchester techniques such as credit card scams were a thing of the past seeing as most people didn't trust technology with their money anymore. Then again the Winchesters had been able to trade lodgings and food for their special skills and services as supernatural bug busters in several cases already.

Like in the little sleepy town they were staying in at the moment.

Sam had tracked down a chupacabra which was way off its usual feeding grounds, and once the mayor's daughter learned that Dean's small family had been tracking _'this slippery crafty little fucker who likes cows for breakfast and goats for supper,'_ well...

Granted, the hunters didn't say anything about a mystical creature being responsible for all the dead life-stock but hey! No one said they had to reveal all their secrets to get the job done.

His brother, thirty-one now even if he still looked like the boy from Dean's childhood when he let loose with that smile of his that had the ladies all but role over onto their bellies or smother him with well-meant motherly care depending on the type of woman, still scanned the fields and tree line worriedly.

"You sure this is a good idea?" he asked; not for the first time during the last hour either.

Dean sighed, turning over a crinkled page. "Relax, Sammy. He's gonna be fine."

The reason Sam and Dean were waiting and enjoying the sunshine instead of hunting down the goat-eating bad monster was because Ben, bouncing on his toes and maybe a bit too eager, had all but begged them to let him do this job on his own. His "But you promised, Dean!" still curled Dean's lips up into a fond smile.

It was strange how Ben would say his name and all Dean heard was 'Dad.' Even more astounding was it that Dean didn't mind. He didn't mind at all. In fact, he kind of liked it.

After not nearly enough consideration (according to Sam anyway) and two stern lectures to be careful and not get cocky and _'don't, for God's sake, let humans see you do that shit where you're faster than my eyes can track,'_ Dean agreed.

"He's only sixteen, Dean! He shouldn't be doing a hunt on his own!"

"He's not on his own. We're right here!" Dean was starting to feel like a broken record as he listed, once again, all the reasons why Ben could take care of himself. "He has the training, he's faster, he's stronger than the both of us put together. He's a genetically enhanced super-soldier, Sammy! Besides, when I was his age –" _God, had he really just said that? Dean was feeling old all of a sudden_ "– I killed my first werewolf with Dad."

Despite Sam standing behind him, Dean could almost _see_ the face his brother made, but Sam refrained from uttering the insult that was undoubtedly on the tip of his tongue. Over the last few years he had mellowed out a lot towards their father. Not the least of which was due to raising a child on the road now himself, Dean imagined.

Sitting down beside Dean, Sam sighed. "I don't see it," he declared out of nowhere.

"See what?" Dean tore his gaze away from the paper to watch his brother inquisitively.

"Alec told us that Ben was psychotic. That he killed humans as sacrifices to some made-up deity."

"The Blue Lady," Dean guessed.

That first year Ben had stayed with them the Mother Mary (or the Blue Lady as Ben still called her now and again) had been the one thing the boy found solace in. Sam had explained about religion and told Ben her story, and now Ben still believed, still prayed sometimes, but it wasn't the unhealthy obsession Alec had made it out to be.

And then, so did Sam. His little brother still prayed, even after everything that had happened, and he wasn't a psychotic serial killer either. Granted, he had teetered on the edge there for quite some time, but after all was said and done, he was still just Sam Winchester, hunter and the little brother Dean would give up (_had given up_) everything for.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Me neither. Maybe it won't happen."

Dean sure hoped so. He could live without the drama of fearing he would have to kill yet another one of his family because they turned dark side.

Sam unwittingly echoed the sentiment no second later. "I sure hope so."

A loud screeching sound, a crash in the underbrush and a familiar voice cussing clamorously disrupted the idyllic silence.

"Stay here, you fucking, goat-eating piece of shit!"

The brothers' heads snapped up and swiveled around towards the noises.

Another loud crash followed and then a dark blurry form barreled out of the underbrush. Another figure gave chase, smaller, but even faster than the first one. When it caught up they went down in a tangle of limbs, ungodly shrieking and a collection of colorful curses that had Dean's eyebrows rise in astonishment and his chest swell with pride.

Sam rose in alarm when all activity stilled, calling out an anxious, "Ben?"

The moments stretched and just as Dean was ready to head over there the pile moved, a slender, long arm rising up above the knot of limbs and waving.

"I'm okay."

Ben's voice sounded breathless but smug, and another moment later, he rolled the dead chupacabra off of him, stood up and ambled towards their bench, a blinding, self-satisfied smile on his face. Sam slumped down next to his brother.

"You know, Dean, if it wasn't apparent that he shares your DNA, there would be no doubt left now," he commented dryly.

Shooting him a disgruntled glare, Dean demanded, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

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_to be continued..._


	16. P3, Interlude

A/N: Yes, I know it's been done before (Sam being responsible for the Pulse, I mean) but it just works so well =) And quite honestly, I was in a bit of a hurry trying to finish the story before the dead line set on Raising Hell (this story was written for the Dec/Jan prompt challenge in case I haven't mentioned it), so I went with the first thing that sprang to my mind -_-;

On another note: Maybe I should have warned you before now that the humor is going way down in Part Three of this story. And I hope I had at least some of you guessing at what I'm going to do about Ben and his insanity ;) Enjoy...

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**Part Three:** In the Beginning

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**Interlude**

_New York__, 2018~_

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He liked this new body of his. It was faster and stronger than that of an ordinary human. He liked how, right at this moment, he ran so fast through the dark streets no eye could follow his movements. He had better ears, too.

"Ben!" someone in the distance called. "Leave it be! We'll get it another time!"

The gloat and relief, it turned out, came too soon. A shot echoed through the chasms of skyscrapers and no second later there was blinding, white-hot agony bursting just beneath his left shoulder blade. Barely managing to stumble around the corner, he went down to his knees, heaved open the entry to the sewers there and went into hiding.

The sewers in New York were a complete mess to navigate. An endless maze of old lines and new lines and even older tunnels built one on top of the other, criss-crossing all over the map. Many had never been properly recorded and cataloged.

It was easy to lose a trail down there even if your prey was bleeding. The fresh blood mixed with the gunk and trash, becoming unrecognizable unless you had the proper equipment and that was costly, nowadays more so than ever. The scent, too, became lost in the sharp smell of discarded chemicals and the stink of human waste.

The shape-shifter tediously made his way through the dark, abandoned tunnels that suddenly weren't so dark anymore with those new eyes. The silver bullet burned in his flesh, poisoning him from the inside. He had to get it out.

Had to get out of this glorious new skin as well, however much he would miss it. But if he didn't want to attract the hunters' attention again he couldn't head upstairs as someone they would recognize. Not until he was healed anyway.

He knew it was dark in the tunnels, but for once he had no trouble seeing in the murkiness down here. When he reached his lair he didn't even need to light the candles it seemed so bright.

Pulling off his shirt, the shape-shifter started the process of losing his current skin, stretching muscles and producing bio-chemical substances that were inherent in his kind alone. He scratched at his hips and arms in order to speed up the procedure.

For the first time in his life it didn't work.

Frantically, he scratched and tore but all he did was give himself deep wounds that hurt almost as bad as the silver in his back. The thought crystallizing in his mind let panic settle deep in his guts. _He was trapped inside this skin..._

Exhausted, he fell down, trying to figure out what was happening to him. He had been told, once upon a time, to never try and imitate animal DNA. And it wasn't because they were too different. It was quite the opposite. Their genes were too compatible with his own, the substance his body used to recognize the foreign DNA strands and mutate them didn't detect them. He would be stuck in a body for the rest of his life, becoming more and more the animal he was pretending to be.

But this body was human. It had to be.

Mind racing, body too weak to stand up anymore, he finally fell into unconsciousness. Memories started to surface, memories of the one whose skin he had stolen, manifesting in nightmarish dreams.

_Strict, uncaring, intimidating soldiers._

_Being tied down in the bottom of a water filled pool._

_Nomlies in the basement. A broken body in the woods._

_Bloody teeth hidden inside a cloth._

_A smiling, benevolent blue lady._

When he woke up, still fighting the silver poisoning, still feverish, the Lady was the one thing he remembered not fearing. He prayed to her to not let him die.

And She answered his prayers.

He got strong again, undetected by the hunters, and with time he forgot that there was a time when he could change his skin like other people changed their clothes. He forgot that his memories weren't his own and he forgot those memories that didn't make sense anymore.

He forgot that he had ever been somebody else, someone whose designation wasn't X5-493, whose siblings didn't call him Ben, and he didn't remember much of what had happened after he fled Manticore. Those memories were hazy and unreal.

He never forgot about Her, though. He prayed to Her and She saved him. And he just knew if he gave Her the right kind of sacrifice She would continue to keep him safe, fight off the nomlies even the memories of which scared him half to death.

He was X5-493, Ben, a feline-human hybrid designed and bred to kill.

The pain in his back where a silver bullet still spread its poison didn't even register anymore.

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_to be continued..._


	17. P3, Scene 4

A/N: Nothing to say today except I'm sorry about not posting, but I was busy yesterday...

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**Part Three:** In the Beginning

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**Scene Four**

_New Mexico,__ fall 2019~_

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"That's impossible!"

Sam's incredulous whisper drifted through the white noise of TV commercials.

Dean, stomach grumbling in anticipation of the food they had sent Ben out to buy, looked up from his spot on the motel bed to look at his brother. True to form, Sam sat by the rickety table, immersed in his laptop in front of him, staring at the screen in shock. Some things just never changed.

Managing to tide that thing over the first, worst post-pulse years and hold onto it this long had been nothing short of a miracle. By now Sammy's favorite toy resembled more the Frankensteined bit of ingenious hacker technology dear old Ash had presented them so proudly with back in the day, but it had been well worth the effort. The US might have turned into a third world country overnight, but that didn't mean other nations had followed the trend. Thus, the inter-net was still up and running, even though a lot of data had been lost during the Pulse. It wasn't quite the well of information it used to be, but ten years had definitely made a difference in the restoring process; the real trouble was getting a connection.

"What is it?" Dean asked after waiting for several moments. His brother startled at the question, head snapping up to meet Dean's gaze. The wide-eyed look quickly morphed into Sam's _'Oh shit!'_-expression. It told Dean Sam hadn't meant to talk aloud. Suddenly all kinds of alarms were blaring in his mind.

"Sam?" he prodded. Knowing exactly that Sam had never managed to outgrow the compulsion to answer truthfully whenever the older Winchester used that kind of tone, Dean used the best big brother voice in his repertoire. Much to Dean's never-ending source of amusement (and often enough sheer relief), it had the same effect on Ben whenever Dean needed to call the kid on the carpet for some stunt or another.

"I... uh," Sam stuttered, shut his mouth with the clicking of teeth and tried again. "Bobby sent some more information on the breeding cult."

Nice. The bits and pieces the brothers had managed to unearth hadn't really given away a lot save for what they already knew from Alec. Those people had generations of experience to cover their tracks and they were annoyingly good at it.

Still didn't explain Sam's deer-caught-in-headlights imitation.

"And?"

"And there was a cross-reference for one of its higher ranking members. A man named Sandeman."

"Cross-reference to where?" God, this was like pulling teeth!

Sam cringed and a moment later Dean had his explanation for Sam's guilty demeanor.

"Manticore."

Before Dean could let loose with the admonishments, Sam went on, defiant as only a little brother could be no matter how old he was.

"It's not even another year, Dean! Alec told us the Seattle facility will be burned down in spring 2020 and I figured we may as well get what information we can beforehand."

"Please tell me you were being careful!"

Sam shot him a look of such unadulterated disgust and condescension Dean had to swallow the urge to laugh.

"Dude, seriously! What do you take me for, an amateur?"

Sighing, Dean knew defeat when it sat smugly in front of him and got up. He couldn't quite deny being curious himself.

"What did you find?"

Sam adjusted the screen when Dean came to stand behind him, one hand on Sam's shoulder, the other on the table.

"Alec," Sam replied. "Or rather X5R-494. That's his designation."

_494. Ben's was 493._

"The littlest Winchester," he muttered, Ruby's lecherous voice suddenly ringing in his ears as if it had been said only seconds ago. They hadn't heard of their favorite demon in years, but Dean had no doubt that she was still around somewhere and not yet exorcised. Dean just wasn't that lucky.

"He's been in 'psychological observation' for the last four months, because and I quote 'the subject's twin unit shows signs of paranoid schizophrenia.'"

"Bastards!" Bone-deep hatred that Dean had once thought was only reserved for the creatures he hunted was his first reaction, not to the words as such, but to the detached, sterile, emotionless way they were written. As if that wasn't a person's life they were talking about. As if that wasn't his _family_ they were talking about.

Only then did he realize the actual meaning of the words.

"Wait, _what?_ But that's impossible!"

Ben wasn't schizophrenic. Oh, he was by no means a normal twenty year old, but he was _not_ schizophrenic. Both Dean and Sam had constantly, inconspicuously looked for the signs, hoping the best but not able to disregard the possibility. By the time 2020 was almost in sight, they had let themselves relax somewhat, but even so...

Browsing the site Sam brought up, Dean looked through the crime scene photos, the dates of the murders, the locations.

Even so there was no way Ben could have taken a quick trip to Florida without them noticing when they were halfway across the country at the time of the third murder, somewhere in North Dakota.

"What's impossible?"

Sam wasn't the only one wearing his _'Oh shit!'_-expression when both brothers' heads swiveled around to meet Ben's curious eyes.

The young man was balancing two brown paper bags while locking the door with his foot in a fluid motion that bespoke of long time practice carrying more than was necessary just so he wouldn't have to make the same trip twice. During the last few months, since Ben had shot up another three inches and had finally gotten himself a haircut, Dean caught himself startled more than once to see an almost exact replica of Alec _(of himself, but he had gotten over that aspect years ago)_ instead of the young, nine year old kid his brother and he had taken in. It brought on a feeling of unwelcome nostalgia. It made Dean feel not just old but _ancient_.

"What?" Ben asked again when the brothers kept staring at him.

Sighing heavily, Dean shared a reluctant look with Sam before straightening up to his full height.

"Put the bags down and make yourself comfortable. We need to tell you something and it might take a while."

Glancing over at his brother, Dean discovered that Sam looked as uncomfortable as he felt. This wasn't a conversation he looked forward to. If he were honest with himself, though, it had long been overdue.

While Ben warily did as he was told, Dean grabbed himself one of the bags and searched for his requested burger. There was no way he was going to get through the imminent argument without something to eat first.

Almost an hour later and Dean reconsidered his previous idea. The greasy fries and burger he had eaten sat heavily in his stomach as Sam and he laid out the events of the past (a certain month about twelve years back in particular) and what Sam had found with his hacker skills and an apparently decent modem connection.

"You thought I was a _psycho_?"

Right there, Dean saw the most obvious difference between his two transgenic clones. Ben had never learned to hide his emotions as well as Alec had done even during the short time the Winchesters had come to know him. Ben had never needed to. Whatever the first nine years of his life had taught him about not showing his emotions had worn off by this time, and Dean could clearly see the hurt and anger flashing in his clones _(his son's)_ eyes.

"What, just because I believe in something else but myself I'm a murderous raving lunatic? What did you plan to do, Dean, would you have..."

"Stop right there, Ben!" Dean really didn't want to hear anything about killing his own family ever again!

Fortunately the younger man backed down, but he still glowered at the two brothers from where he was standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest and fingers clenched into his shirt. His posture was at once defiant, angry and strangely vulnerable.

"You know damn well that we don't think you're a psycho! And we never have!"

"But you were looking for the signs, didn't you?" Ben accused them.

It didn't matter what he answered to that question, Dean had just moved himself into a corner. Like so many times in the previous years it was Sam who managed to find the right words and break through both Ben's and Dean's stubborn anger.

"Yeah, we did," he confessed in this soothing tone of voice that managed to drive Dean up the walls sometimes. Right now, though, he was grateful that at least one of them was keeping a clear head.

"With what we just told you," Sam continued, "what else would you have done? We hoped for the best, but we _couldn't_ risk neglecting Alec's warning!"

"Only it doesn't seem to have done him any good." Dean glared at the laptop screen where Alec's Psy Ops file was still open. "He still got screwed over for something neither of you did!"

He looked up again when Ben moved towards the bed nearest the door and plopped down. Raking his hands through his hair, the young man palpably let go of his anger and broached the other subject of this discussion.

"So I have a twin brother?" he asked, expression unguarded and curious this time, and Dean was struck again by how unused he had been to seeing the same expression on said twin back in '07.

Sam only nodded in confirmation.

"And he's still in that hellhole, why?" There was anger in Ben's voice again, on behalf of a brother he had never even met. God help him, but Dean loved that kid!

"Because he asked us not to interfere," Sam explained, "and like it or not, Ben, he was right."

"Yeah, but you promised him something else, too, Sammy!" Dean's rueful smile was mirrored by Sam even as Ben looked from one to the other in confusion and barely contained curiosity. For the young one's sake, Dean added, "You'll get to meet him in about another year or so. Sam promised to see him on the other side..."

"So," Sam fidgeted on his chair, alternately looking at Alec's file and the other two men in the room. "Now that we've all agreed that Ben isn't, you know, a 'murderous raving lunatic' – has anyone an idea why _they_ think you are?"

"Well, there's the bar code, obviously," Dean replied, but honestly, that just raised more questions. Why would anyone tattoo Ben's bar code on the necks of the victims?

When Dean looked over to the bed, not able to think of an answer to that, he noticed the kid squirming.

"Ben?" he asked warily.

Wide cat-green eyes met his for a long moment. Then Ben sighed. "It's not just the bar code."

"Then what is it?" Sam asked.

"It's... the way they're displayed," Ben explained with a grimace, eyes darting from one Winchester to the other in obvious discomfort and anxiety. "About half a year before we escaped, Colonel Lydecker took us into the woods. There was this death row convict."

Ben stuttered to a halt and Dean couldn't help but think that this sounded eerily familiar. Glancing at Sam who wore the same pained expression that Dean knew was on his own face, he spared the kid from having to recount that particular experience.

"First kill scenario," were his only words, but Ben's head shot up in surprise nonetheless.

"How...?" he started, then, "Alec told you."

"Yeah. So what about it?"

"We were afraid of him." Ben avoided both brother's eyes once again and Dean had the distinct feeling there was something he was not telling them. "The way those bodies are arranged? It's what we did to that man. Including taking his teeth. He never stood a chance. I think even Lydecker was afraid of us that day."

Silence descended on the small group for a few long moments. Grinding his teeth Dean thought that this was exactly why he usually let Sam deal with the emotional fallout of Ben's past. He himself just got too blind with fury at his own kind to think straight.

After a few minutes, Ben sighed again. "I think I know what happened," he then declared. "Remember that shifter last year? I thought I put a bullet in its heart, but what if I haven't? We haven't exactly been able to stay around to check and it was pretty far away. Maybe it survived. You once told me that it's like they download the memories of whoever's skin they steal. And Grandpa's journal said that they can't shift into animals."

"But you're part cat," Sam supplied, following Ben's line of reasoning effortlessly. "So maybe it got stuck in your skin, and if that bullet's still in it it's poisoning this shifter from inside out. Making it go crazy – or, well, _more_ crazy. Like a... a lead poisoning would do to a human." Scratching his brow, Sam scoffed. "Huh. It's a thought."

"So what do we do about it?"

Dean was ready to pack their bags at the first sign of a decent plan, but Sam's next words stopped him cold in bewilderment.

"I'm not so sure we should do anything."

"What the hell are you talking about, Sam?" Shooting his brother an evil glare, the older Winchester snapped, "Of course we should do something!"

Sam, however, just shook his head, using that soothing voice once again, but now all it did was piss Dean off. "No, Dean, think about it. We picked up Ben just like Alec asked us to, but the killings he told us about still happened! Who's to say it wasn't like that all along? Maybe that's what happened, maybe the killer everyone thought was X5-493 was a shape-shifter all this time? A shape-shifter stuck in a transgenic body, with Ben's memories and a silver poisoning."

"You're talking about a temporal paradox, aren't you?" Ben questioned, his intent gaze never wavering from Sam's face. "That... the way things happened in Alec's past happened that way _because_ he messed with the timeline and not _despite_ trying to change the timeline?"

"Yes. He told us you were stopped eventually. Or," Sam frowned in bemusement, "not _you_ but the one he thought was you."

Dean was still trying to get his head around that particular concept when Sam said something that was sure to garner his agreement a whole lot easier.

"Besides, that case file looks like Lydecker is fast moving in on that shifter. We didn't try to keep Manticore off your tail all those years only to run into their waiting arms now."

Wasn't much Dean could argue with after that. Even if they did stop the shifter without the good Colonel noticing, the damage had been done and Alec had been the one to pay the price.

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_to be continued..._

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A/N:One more to go..._  
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	18. P3, Scene 5

A/N: So, last chapter... Hope you'll enjoy!

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**Part Three:** In the Beginning

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**Scene Five**

_~Back at the small clearing in the woods outside of Seattle for one last time, December 30__th__, 2020~_

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The night before New Year's Eve 2020 was cold. Cold enough to glaze over the slosh in the puddles that were left over from the constant rain the week before. Cold enough to be uncomfortable if you had to lie in waiting for an unknown amount of time.

Alec had never told them the exact date of his little mishap, but he did once confide that it had only been a day or two until New Years. That and the use of a lunar calendar had lead the Winchesters here this first day of the year's last full moon, fully prepared to stay in place for the next three days if need be.

Dean wasn't able to express how very grateful he felt when they had heard the first of two stuttering engines draw into the clearing. The cold had already seeped into his bones and his joints protested every time he changed position. There was no getting around the cruel fact: he was getting too old for this kind of thing.

When Alec appeared on the scene, walking out from under the dark canopy of the trees with a confident swagger, for all the world appearing as if he owned the whole forest, all three Winchesters tensed in anticipation.

A sudden thrill washed over Dean at seeing the X5 again.

From his perch against a tree trunk, well hidden in the underbrush from any prying eyes but close enough that his 'ordinary' eyes could still make out the proceedings, Dean first watched the young man out there and then that young man's mirror image to his left in amusement.

"Are we sure this isn't another shape-shifter?" Ben asked, skeptical and anxious alike, eyes riveted on his twin. Dean reached over to ruffle the kid's hair fondly. "Oh, we're damn sure!" he replied. "No shape-shifter this time!"

Sam was a comforting, steady heat at his back, all coiled muscles, intently focusing on the scene unfolding before their eyes.

Ben shifted position again, frustration and impatience transforming his youthful face into a grimace.

Those last few weeks had wrecked hell on everyone's nerves, tempers flaring, the air all but crackling with poorly concealed anticipation, especially once a hostage situation in Seattle involving transgenics made the news. Catching Alec's face in the footage had been a minor shock.

As well as Dean understood Ben's need to finally meet Alec, however, to talk to him, as much as he shared those feelings, Sam had been right about waiting.

Until the moment Alec crossed the Devil's Gateway he believed X5-493, his twin Ben, to be dead. If what they had read in his Manticore file was anything to go by, he was going to shoot a lookalike claiming to be 493 on the spot more likely than not.

While Ben had been right about the shape-shifter, Alec didn't know anything about the supernatural yet. Given that the kid had gone on and on about insanity being genetic it was doubtful he would even hear them out if they tried to explain.

No, Dean thought. _After_ he crossed back into his own time, he would be more willing to believe the actual course of events.

At least they knew that that shifter wouldn't return. Sam had risked hacking into Manticore's database one last time to make sure the bastard was, indeed, gone for good, the silver bullet Ben had shot it with propelled to pierce its heart by its last fight. The broken neck had only sped things along.

Next to Dean, Ben tensed, switching his gaze from where it had been fixed on his twin towards the small dirt track on which the cars had arrived. Out there by the stone formation Alec cocked his head in the same direction.

A few seconds later Dean, too, heard what had caught the X5s' attention. Another car was barreling through the darkness, headlights quickly growing from pinpricks of weak light to two big but watery sources of illumination.

The Winchesters watched in tense silence as the shooting started.

Watched as Alec was hit in the shoulder and quickly ducked behind the stones out of the line of fire.

From where they were hiding, Dean had a good view of his little brother. Try as he might, he wasn't able to suppress the snort when he noticed Alec's ADD coming to the fore. Not that Dean honestly believed Alec suffered from the actual disorder. He rather suspected it was an unconscious rebellion against his upbringing, against Manticore and all the things they had tried to drill into him. It wasn't genetic at any rate, since – and Dean thanked his lucky star for that – Ben had never shown similar signs.

There was a lull in the hail of bullets when the shooters seemingly decided to take a break, and Alec's head peeked around the corner of one tall stone.

Big mistake.

As if they had been waiting for it, the shooters started up again, fresh clips in their guns all around. A stray bullet grazed the monolith mere inches above Alec's head. They all watched the young man stumbling backwards in surprise, grappling for a hold and failing.

Despite knowing it would happen like this, despite having seen it once before, Dean was still startled by the abruptness of the Alec's vanishing act. No clouds of smoke rising, no thunder, no blinding light. One second Alec was there, the most hilarious expression of shock on his face, the next he was gone.

And still the apparent turf war raged on, unaffected, not to say completely oblivious to the unique display of powerful, ancient magic.

Ben glanced his way, and Dean nodded, giving him the go ahead. Glancing over at his son, he encountered nothing but an empty space where Ben had been crouched no second ago. Dean hadn't even heard him move. Shaking his head in wry amazement (although, really, he should be used to it by now), Dean motioned Sam to follow him. They had to time this right.

Five minutes later, Dean delivered a healthy blow to the head with an appropriated shotgun to the last of the goons Alec had tried to make business with. The man folded like a house of cards. Grinning in smug satisfaction, he kicked the downed man one last time for good measure. When he looked up Dean saw Sam and Ben already tying the other downed men up and piling them into a heap next to one of the cars.

All they had to do now was wait. Dean couldn't help but think that that was the hardest part of it all. He just hoped Sam was right in his assumption that Alec would be returned to the same night he had disappeared and not a month later.

Leaning against one of the stones, Dean took the opportunity to observe his youngest brother's twin for a few undisturbed moments.

When he looked at Ben, he no longer saw a clone, a lookalike.

What he saw was the child Sam and he had taken in; a wary, confused, abused nine-year-old boy with eyes much too old for his age and a military training to rival John Winchester's.

What he saw was the mostly responsible if mischievous teenager he'd had a hand in raising.

What Dean saw when he looked at Ben was the closest thing both he and Sam would ever have to a son of their own.

Confusing as it was, his feelings towards Alec were a bit different. Although technically, Alec was the younger one of the twins, they had met when Dean was only a few years older, and Dean's subconsciousness placed him firmly next to Sam in the 'little brother'-category; _baby _brother as it was, but brother all the same.

Looking back on that one month thirteen and a half years ago, Dean realized that they'd latched on to Alec shockingly fast considering how closed off they usually were towards strangers. Part of it was the kid's looks of course; he did look exactly like Dean had when he had been that age. Part of it was Alec's annoying ability to get under their skin no matter how aggravating he could be at times.

Most of it, however, had nothing to do with Alec himself and all to do with the deal Dean had struck for his other brother's life.

Sam had felt so helpless back then, constantly aware of his big brother's one-way ticket to hell, knowing deep down that there was noting he could do to stop it. During that month he had focused a good deal of his attention on Alec. If he couldn't save one brother, he would do his best to help the other.

Dean, well. Dean just wanted to leave something of himself behind, even if it was just memories. And Alec was old enough _(young enough)_ to be the son Lisa hadn't been able to give him.

He looked honestly forward to meeting up with him again.

"What if he doesn't want anything to do with me?"

Lost in his own thoughts as he was, it took Dean a moment to process that Ben had spoken.

"I mean, I'm the reason he got sent to Psy Ops not just once but twice!"

All three of them had read up on what happened in Psy Ops.

They'd all read Alec's Med Lab report, as well, and Dean still couldn't decide what was sicker: all those re-indoctrination techniques that involved starvation and sleep deprivation, or purposely inflicting first to third degree burns on a seven year old only to find out how fast he would heal.

"Calm down, Ben!" He understood Ben's anxiety. Dean, in Alec's shoes probably wouldn't feel too keen to meet his twin. All the same...

"He wouldn't have asked us to take care of you if he wished you bad." Sam voiced what Dean was thinking.

A loud thud and startled yelp in their backs had all three of them spin around. Dean turned in time to see Alec rubbing his tail bone with a painful grimace, raindrops glimmering in a mess of blinding red hair. _Huh_. A smug smile blossomed on his lips. He'd almost forgotten about that.

Ben, too, grinned at his twin's predicament, anxiety forgotten over the excitement of finally meeting the brother he'd only ever heard of from Sam and Dean's stories.

"You know, red really doesn't suit you, little brother!"

Exchanging a look with Sam, who was grinning so hard Dean feared his features would stay frozen like that, the eldest Winchester felt his own cheeks hurting from one of the most genuine and happy smiles that had ever grazed his lips.

Oblivious to the brothers, Alec stared open-mouthed at his twin, keen eyes flickering to the semi-automatic in Ben's waistband before clasping the helping hand the other young man offered as if in a daze. Ben was proud of that gun. It was the Colt 1911 that used to belong to Dean. The day Ben had mastered his first hunt on his own, Dean had passed it along to him.

"You're not dead!" Alec blurted out and Dean's smile stretched into a smirk. God, he had missed the kid!

Pulling Alec up to his feet, Ben replied, "Never was. The shape-shifter who stole my face, though, definitely is. We made sure of that. Temporal anomalies are a bitch, dude!"

The look of wide-eyed astonishment on Alec's face would have been comical if Dean wasn't still grinning like a lunatic himself.

Finally becoming aware of the two older brothers Winchester, Alec turned his stunned gaze on them only to start grinning like a lune as well.

"Dean? Sam?" he asked unnecessarily but with such unmasked excitement that Dean couldn't bring himself to voice the jibe on his tongue. Alec's next comment, however, made him rethink his show of good will.

"Oh my God, you're _old_!"

"Watch your tongue, heathen!"

Before Dean could do anything more than gripe, though, Sam beat him to the punch – as well as an amiably hard (and literal) punch to Alec's shoulder.

"Genetically enhanced super-soldier, my ass!" he crowed brightly. "You have the attention span of a four year old, dude. How did you manage not to get yourself killed?"

"Hey!" Alec protested reflexively. "I can focus if I absolutely have to!"

Looking over his shoulder at the weathered old stones, he scowled. "And anyway, this wasn't my fault."

Probably not. Although the X5 could have used a little more caution in his dealings with those low-life suppliers of his.

Turning his gaze from Dean to Sam to Ben to the tied up, unconscious forms of the six humans a few feet behind them, Alec shook his head, once again grinning from ear to ear. Green eyes sparkling with mirth, he carelessly tossed out a line that Dean had first heard him use thirteen and a half years ago.

"Max is going to _kill_ me."

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**~ End Part Three ~**

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_to be concluded..._


	19. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_~Terminal City, a few hours later~_

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Max didn't kill him.

Alec still almost died – from embarrassment, when Mole caught sight of Dean's masterpiece and laughed so hard he had trouble breathing afterwards. The X5 seriously considered making the black knitted cap he usually wore for heists a regular accessory to his attire.

Ben's appearance and the subsequent explanation as to how it was possible that he was even still alive, much less sane, went over better than Alec could have hoped for.

Sure, there was the expected anger and bitching and yelling from Max, but after she got over her tantrum (and pushed aside her lingering doubts about the existence of the supernatural for the time being), she broke down into tears and hung on to his twin's neck for dear life.

Alec found he didn't begrudge Ben Max's rare show of emotions, of showing she wasn't the ice queen so many of their fellow freaks believed her to be. It wasn't exactly easy having thrown accusations into your face for something you didn't even commit. It was even worse when the one doing the accusing was a beloved sister you hadn't seen for over a decade.

So, no, Alec didn't begrudge Ben the unexpected closeness. Even though he couldn't deny the twitch of jealousy the picture caused in his heart; right up until the moment that Max untangled one of her arms and pulled him into their embrace with a firm hand on his neck.

The arrival of two ordinaries was no less sensational to Terminal City's inhabitants. Especially the nomalies were wary and hostile. Mole grouched to rival Dean the day Ruby had come for a visit back in '07.

Funny enough, Mole was also the first to warm up to the Winchesters when Dean sneaked a peek at their armory and blurted out, "This is magnificent is what this is!"

Later that night, when the medical supplies they had brought with them were all accounted for and stowed, Ben caught a hold of him in a quiet corner of their makeshift infirmary.

Face earnest, a hint of sadness glimmering in his eyes, he told Alec quietly, "I owe you."

He did.

But Alec didn't voice his agreement. After all this time, he was starting to feel charitable towards his twin.

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**~ The End ~**

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**Author's ramblings:** God, I only wanted to write a short story! How did I end up with _this_?

I sincerely thank all readers of this story for expressing their joy, expectations and compliments during the course of the updates! Honestly, guys, you regularly made my days and you made me blush with your comments more than once =D And to those of you who haven't reviewed: what are you waiting for? *lol* Seriously, though, I hope anyone reading Devil's Gateway had as much fun as I did writing it =)

I realize I left a lot of points open, but remember, I wrote this for a challenge on Raising Hell, and I did have a deadline looming.

Before the demands start, ideas for a sequel are already spinning around in my head, but don't hold your breaths. It won't get realized any time soon. First I have to revive another story of mine that has been left for dead for way. too. long.

On a tangent, for anyone who wondered, I actually looked up the dates of full and new moons in a lunar calendar online. Now whether the information is correct or not, I'm not sure, but I didn't just pull the dates out of my behind =)

Love and take care, Rachel


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